


Seven, Eight, Nein!

by Midnigtartist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Multi, also this is a, and i promise all the ships are going to be repersented, basically the taz universe, gangs all here - Freeform, its not just widomauk with background relationships, where i stick fantasy in front of words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnigtartist/pseuds/Midnigtartist
Summary: I've been talking about this au forever so I figured I might as well write it already.A modern with magic college au that loosely follows some sort if plot (read: a bunch of headcannons, college cliches, and shippy bullshit in an unnecessarily complicated trench coat)





	1. Meet and Greet

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta thank my lovely beta Limpblotter over on tumblr for making this readable <3  
> HMU over on tumblr @midnigtartist if you wanna talk hcs because that is basically all this fic is going to be. Get ready for midterm madness, spring break shenanigans and moderately slow burn shipping. But first, introductions.

Never such a strange mix of dread and excitement has Caleb felt...that is until right now; pulling the riding helmet off his head and gazing up at the imposing brick and mortar buildings that make up this campus. The stillness of the morning, exactly eight forty-five in the morning, causes a familiar ache to well up in his chest. He didn't think he’d miss this as much as he did, the formality of education, and never for the life of him would he ever have considered that one day he might be able to come back. Not to the same school, not to the same town, some aspects of one's past are safer left in the dust behind one’s weary feet. But to be able to come back to education, proper learning fills Caleb with such gratitude and other difficult to parse emotions that a knot forms in his throat.

This feels like a fresh start. This feels like the second chance he so desperately needs. And that feels right.

Allowing himself a moment to take all this and carefully piece it apart, Caleb sighs and gingerly steps onto the pavement. His knees wobble a bit, unsteady on his feet for a moment, and he blames his companion’s less than legal style of driving for the anxious pit in his stomach. He glances over at her as he adjusts the strap of his bag high on his shoulder. The little figure sat at the front of the scooter kills the engine and jumps down to stand beside him.

“We aren't late, are we Caleb?” Notts high, pitching voice asks from under her own helmet. Its red, with a dark tinted visor that makes it hard to see the person inside, and has leering mouth of jagged teeth painted on the bottom front. Nott pops the visor up so that her glowing yellow eyes peer worriedly at him through the opening.

Caleb offers her a tight lipped smile of reassurance. “No no, eh we are okay- I do not need to be signed in for a little while longer.”

Nott nods, head bouncing more vigorously than normal under the weight of the helmet. “oH thank god, i- was- -I thought I was going to make you late, what with all the um- ah well not being able to see the signs so good.”

“You did fine, Liebling,” He tells her. He stowes his helmet in the compartment under the scooters seat. “Thank you for giving me a ride. “

Nott waves the praise away with a gloved hand. “I don’t mind, I like helping you Caleb. And this is something you've wanted to do for a really long time, isn't it?”

Caleb shifts from foot to foot, staring at a point just past Nott’s left shoulder. “Ja, it- it is,,,,”

He’s been- nervous about going back to school, after everything that’s happened in the last fifteen years. He had little money and little in his life for a very, very long time. The thought that he could one day resume his education was a distant, idealistic dream for five long years. Nothing more than a dream. As bits and pieces of his life began to fall back into place one by one, and the dream became more viable, however, he had been hesitant to pursue it.

Caleb is not a brave man. He is nervous and flighty and often the violent, ceaseless whirl of his own bright mind unravels him. He worries what people might think, a thirty three year old man attending university to finish up the last credits of a degree he had abandoned over a decade ago. Worried if he would even be able to get in, giving the circumstances of his situation leading up to this point, if they would even accept him, if his credits were still even viable all these years later. He worried about how he would integrate into the system, after spending fifteen years in near total social isolation, how he would handle the change?

It was Nott, sweet, careful Nott that pushed him forward. Perhaps, he had not been thrilled with her when she sent in his finished but ultimately abandoned application without  his knowledge but now he could not be more grateful to her. She is the push he needs, she makes him braver, reminds him to be kind, always kind. She is very special to him and he owes her so much, more than he could ever hope to repay her.

“Do you - can I come with you?” she asks. “I- uh- i don't want to just stand around by myself.”

It would probably be best if she came with him. Kind and wonderful as she is, Not is still a goblin, and those who would treat her well are few and far between. Best to keep her at his side, where he can defend her.

“Ja, of course you can come.” his lips creak upwards into a rusty smile. “Just, you know, keep your visor down, and stay close to me okay?” he taps her helmet with a nail, making a hollow little clicking sound.

Nott nods again, a lock of dark, green tinted hair falling over her eyes. She ignores it a slams down the front of her visor once more “You’re so smart Caleb” she praises and Caleb scraps the nail of his little finger anxiously under the nail of his thumb.

“I suppose we will see just how smart I am” he mumbles, then offers Nott his hand.

Together they hurry their way out of the parking lot and onto the main cobblestone path leading deeper into the campus. Caleb pauses them briefly to glance over the helpfully posted map, taking the time to commit it to memory, and then they are on their way again. Caleb leads, with a touch more sureness in his stride now that he has the general layout in mind. Registration is being held in the big main building in the center of campus. He and Nott hang a left at the next split in the path that cuts between two very tall building, before eventually opening up to the quad.

He spots people now. Some lounge around in the grass in small groups, chatting or reading or shouting out to friends as they pass. Older residential students that have already been here a week and are well settled in at this point, he notes. Others, commuters like himself, flounder about, carefully inspecting signs as they pass them, or else checking and rechecking little  maps of their own. But for the most part they seem to be congregating into small herds, the less confident falling in line behind those with surer steps. Caleb tightens his grip on Notts hand and speeds up their pace so that they can tag on unassuming into the back of another roaming pack. Far enough behind that it is not likely that anyone would attempt to engage them in conversation, but close enough to appear as part of group. Caleb is not a leader, the thought of other people falling in line behind him sets his teeth on edge. There’s comfort in fading away into the crowd, eyes locked straight ahead and jaw set to give off a clearly unapproachable aura as they continue up to the big main building at the end of the sidewalk.

The milling crowd eventually spills their way through the double doors at the top of the shallows steps and Caleb and Nott ride the wave to the front of the pack. This building is clearly the central hub of the campus. There are posters hanging from every wall, advertising clubs and lectures and open hours for the tutoring center. Large, plush looking armchairs and sofas are pushed up against the way, and he even spots a little coffee shop near the back, catering to a small mob of people at the moment. Caleb is sure to make a note of its location. He is often more coffee grounds then man, especially when he is stressed and this place will no doubt come with a great deal of that. Directly ahead of him, in the middle of the room, are a good handful or two of people standing around a couple of tables. They’re all wearing the same blue and white t shirts with name tags slapped to the front, a few of them hold clipboards. All of them are smiling and chatting animatedly with the crowd.

Caleb swallows hard, scraping the back of his mind for the most basic memories of how to conduct his way through these next necessary interactions. He is not a charming or personable individual, was better about faking it in his youth but he’d lost most of it to that loathsome decade and a half spent severed from polite society. Still, he’s found he is quite versed in idile bullshit when survival depends on it.

He feels Nott’s slight weight against the side of his leg and lets out a shaky breath through his nose. He’s so very grateful that she came with him, part of Caleb thinks he might have bolted at this point from the shear stress of it were it not for her. He pulls them forward towards the table with a banner that says ‘commuters’ hanging over its front.

Two more t shirt clad figures sit at the desk, checking off things on clipboards and handing out packets to the students. A purple tiefling with, large, ostentatiously bejeweled horns, and a mountain of a woman with ombre black to white hair and multiple face piercing. They’re both equally intimidating, but the women's monochrome color palette doesn't hurt his eyes so he shifts into her cue instead.

He and Nott shuffle to the front of the group and the woman peers stoically up at him. There's a buzz about her, a strange energy, a subtle pulse of power behind her calm, blue purple eyes. Somehow it is not off putting, in fact, she gives off a air of tranquility Caleb would not have expected from a woman of her size. Around her neck she wears a layard from which dangles a nametag. ‘Yasha’ it offers him helpfully. Stuck to the plastic outside of badge are a couple of cute little flower stickers. Strangely, the look suits her.

“Name?” she asks. Her voice is gentle and smooth.

Caleb pushes his shoulders back a bit, stands a little taller. “Eh Caleb- Widogast.”

Yasha nods, flipping through her clipboard to the ‘W’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nott fidget, feels her hand flutter in his grip. She reaches out with  gloved fingers towards a small pile of pens on the table.

“Those are cute.” he says suddenly, gesturing to Yasha’s lanyard. A fumbling attempt at small talk, an attempt to distract her, hopefully, from his friend’s antics. He feels his stomach pull tight. Is it possible to get second hand embarrassment from oneself? Well, if anyone could it would be him.

Yasha looks up from her clipboard, then down at her lanyard, and smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” she runs a thumb over one of the stickers. “A friend gave them to me, said that, you know, they would help me look less- scary.” here she glances at the tiefling to her right, but they’re too busy with their own work to catch her gaze.

Caleb nods. “They are very nice” the knot in his stomach loosens a bit.

“Thank you” she smiles at him. It's a subtle thing, with just a touch of anxiety at its edges that Caleb can immediately empathize with. Yes, she was clearly the better choice he thinks as the tiefling lets out a loud, tittering giggle.

“I think i have a few left” she continues. “You know, if your daughter would like one.” She nods at Nott, who jumps

“Oh she's is not-”

“Daughter-?!” Nott shrieks

Caleb thumps his hand down on her her head, maybe a bit harder than necessary, to get her to be quiet because now people are looking over at them out of the corners of their eyes and his stomach is tight once more.

“Nott is not my daughter” he tells Yasha is a rushed whisper. “She uh- she is my little sister- of sorts”

Yasha blinks at him, startled. “Oh” she says “I see. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just, you know, assumed”

Caleb lets a slow breath out through his nose. “It is quite alright.”

Yasha nods again, then turns to Nott once more “Would you like one, like I said, I have many”

Caleb can feel Nott’s panic in the air as she's looks between him and the strange, large woman before her.

“I- uhh I, yeah! Sure!” She squeaks, shrinking into herself.

Yasha says nothing, but she offers up another small smile and reaches under the table, producing a sticker sheets that still has a dozen or so little flowers. Carefully she peels one off, a blue one, and hands it to Nott. Nott accepts it gingerly, cradling it in her hand.

Yasha then turns her attention back on Caleb. “Orientation is downstairs in ten minutes” she says, handing him a packet and pointing to the staircase to her left.

Caleb nods “Ja, thank you”

Yasha nods back. “It's no trouble. Maybe we will see eachother around campus.”

“Ja, maybe”

There is pause, an awkward silence settling over them.

Then Caleb grabs tight to Nott’s wrist and drags her towards the stairs as fast as he. The moment they’re out if earshot Nott begins to ramble.

“Oh my god, I thought she was going to kill me!” She shrieks. “She was so big!!”

“Ja, she was quite large, she could probably crush you in one hand” Caleb says

Nott’s helmet bobs frantically. “This school is full of weirdos!”

“Then I will fit in just fine, I suppose “ he mumbles under his breath

Nott ignores this. “Did you see that tiefling?! He had so many baubles and- and shiny things in his horns”

“Well they were on his head, so I think on his head they will stay, hm?” Caleb pulls them into a room with a poster that says “commuters” next to the door. “What did you take from the scary woman’s desk?” He asks. They slip into a row of chairs at the back of the lecturer hall.

Once they're settled, Nott pulls a handful of pen caps out of her pocket.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Caleb. I just- I couldn't help myself, my palms started to itch and I- I just-!”

“It's alright Liebling” he assures her “let's just try not to take from people we might have to interact with again, ja?”

“Yeah” Nott sighs, looking at the flower sticker still clutched in her gentle grip “She seemed really nice”

“I,,, I suppose, ja, nice enough” Caleb says

Nott sticks the flower to her helmet.

 

Orientation is long and dull, and Caleb spends the whole lecture memorizing the informational pamphlets that Yasha had giving him. Once he and Nott are free to go they bleed into the crowd pouring their way up the steps and back out onto the quad. Slowly they make their way back to the parking lot.

“Can- can I look at those?” Nott asks, making grabby hands at the bundle of papers Caleb is holding. He hands them over to her and she starts rifling through them. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to see before we go?”

Caleb shrugs. “I do not need to walk around a see where all of my classes are, if that is what you are asking me.”

“Don’t you want to go check out the library though?” she asks.

Caleb swallows thickly. “Of course I would but- uh, you know we have not walked passed it, and I do not want drag you all over looking for it.” he lies.

He desperately wants to see the library. He wants to see what sort of selection of books they offer, the scope of the information available to him. His- his old university had been home to one of the largest libraries in the country. All the information he could have ever wanted was always at the tips of his fingers, and since he had left it has been hard to find material that satisfy his thirst for knowledge. He wants to find a quiet, secluded corner to lay claim too. But he also doesn’t want to inconvenience Nott anymore then he already has today.

“Nono!” she shrieks. “You like books right? And- and I don’t mind. We should go look at them. The -eh, the books.”

Warm affection licks at the inside if Caleb’s ribcage. He pats Nott gentle on the top of her helmet. “Alright, we will find the library, and then, maybe the book story.”

The library is east of where they are now, so Caleb leads them down a path headed that direction, dogging clusters of students as they go. He's sure to keep Nott close to his side.

The library is not hard to find. It's one of the oldest looking buildings on the campus, church like in its construction, with tall windows and grand archways, and a large step of steps leading up to it heavy looking double doors.  Caleb's pulse beats up in his throat as they ascend the stairs.

Once they’re inside, the overwhelming smell of aged parchment and good leather fills his senses. The inside is wide and spacious, with exposed rafters and intricate chandeliers. Rows of books strach all the way to the back wall, peek at him around corners and down at him from the balcony above. The entryway houses a couple of good chairs and a sofa, set up like a lounge of sorts. All of it has a slight tint of blue and on the wall behind the front desk is the symbol of the Knowing Mistress. Caleb drops Notts hand and immediately strides over to the shelf closest to him, dragging his fingertips over the spines of the books he finds there. This particular section seems to deal with mythical spirits and spectres, some with titles in languages he doesnt recognize, some in languages he does. It's wonderful. Caleb thinks he might cry.

“Oh-! Um hello there, is there something i can help you find?” the voice startles Caleb out of his revelry.

Sitting at the front desk is an individual of some elven decent. They have long, finely pointed ears and gold copper hair that’s twisted up into a neat bun at the top of their head. Slim elven features make it difficult to determine gender, but they’re wearing a pale lavender button up under a beige sweater with a pencil stuck behind their ear and are looking at Caleb couriously.

Caleb digs his fingers into the fraying lining of his fur lined duster and picks a point past their left shoulder to focus on has he creeps his way up to the desk, much like a child caught somewhere they ought not to be.

“Nein- I was, erh- I was just looking, you know.” he mutters. “This is a- a very nice library. Lots of books. “

The elf chucks kindly. “Yes well, we do our best with the meager budget the school sees fit to afford us.”

“I’m Bryce by the way.” They add, holding out a hand in greeting. Caleb accepts it gingerly.

“Caleb-er Widogast, it is nice to meet you.” he gives their hand one firm shake before extracting himself.

“Likewise.” Bryce nods. “Are you also a great lover of reading Caleb?”

“I like books.” Caleb says. “They have lots of interesting things in them.”

“That they do.” Bryce smiles. “You’re new here, are you not?”

Caleb shrugs. “Ja, I will be taking classes here in a week or so.”

“Well-” they say, reaching under the desk. “If you would be interested, library positions are open to students here.” Bryce slides an application towards him. “The pay is decent, and the hours are nice, and you can do you classwork when things are slow, hardly a bad deal. And we’d be happy to have you.”

Caleb takes the application off the desk. “I will definitely take this into consideration, thank you very much.” carefully he folds the paper up and slides into his coat pocket.

“Of course.” Bryce nods. “Hopefully we’ll hear from you soon.”

“Thank you” he mumbles again. Thankfully Notts gentle weight against his side gives him the perfect out for this conversation. Taking hold of her smaller hand, he offers Bryce one more acknowledging nod. “We must be going now.” he then turns heel and strides briskly out of the library, Nott in tow.

 

The evening finds them back in Nott’s apartment, where she so graciously allows Caleb to squat. It is not a very big place, a one bedroom one bath, made even smaller by all of Nott’s _‘collections’_ as she affectionately refers to them. She's a bit of a hoarder, and the flat reflects it. There are small mountains of stuff jammed into every corner, presses up against the walls. The shelves are bustin with strange odds and ends, jars of buttons and little sewing boxes full pretty rocks and colorful bits of glass. There’s a whole row of empty bottles on the television and the windowsill is covered in marbles and dice of strange sizes and colors. It's cluttered, it's messy and cramped, but in the six months or so that Caleb has been here he’s learned not mind.

Currently, Nott and himself are in the kitchen, Nott up on the counter with Caleb leaning against the cupboards beside her eating a blow of fansty instant raman. Frumpkin bumps his head instantly against Caleb’s arm, trying to get him to lower his bowl. He pushes the cat away with the back of his hand.

“Down Schnucki.” He murmurs. Frumpkin ignores him, instead digging claws into his shirt and climbing up onto Caleb’s shoulder for a better angle.

It's a nice evening. Caleb is comfortable and content, in the warm little kitchen.

“Are you excited to go back to school Caleb?” Nott asks him after a moment. “I know that things, didn’t- didn't work out so well the last time but,,,,”

Caleb sighs, moving his bowl further from Frumpkin’s reach. The cat mewls at him indignantly. “I am nervous.” he admits, because he is. This is strange and sudden change he’s taking, a huge step forward (hopefully) in his life. “But I think it will be good for me, you know. I am not so good with people-”

“Or time management, or money.” Nott interjects.  
“Ja, those things too.” he says.

“And you think that going back to school will help?” Nott asks.

Caleb studies her face for moment. “What do you think?”

She's watching him intently, tapping her fork against the side of her bowl. After a moment she nods. “I think this will be good thing. Meeting people, getting out of the house, setting some goals for yourself. I think those are all good things.”

Caleb offers her a little smile. “Then I think you are right.”

“Okay” she says slowly. “Okay” then she jumps. “Oh right!”

Caleb watches as Nott reaches into her bag, pulling out a long bit of paper, she presses it into his hand. It's a parking tag for the university parking lot. He flashes her a look.

“I- I figured you wouldn’t want me dropping you off for class every day.” she mumbles. “And this way, you can stay at the library as late as you want, or-or- go out, with friends, if you wanted to. Without worrying  about me. I can’t leave the aprement much anyway so I don't need the scooter all the time- Oh!”

At this point Caleb has set his bowl down on the counter, which Frumpkin descends on happily, but Caleb doesn’t mind. He wraps Nott up in a big hug, squeezing her little frame a tight as he can.

“Thank you Nott” he mutters into her hair.

Nott’s little goblin hands come around to hold to the back of his shirt. “Of course Caleb, you’re very welcome.”

  
  
  


Fjord would like to think that he’s a pretty put together individual. He tries not to let himself get overwhelmed by his emotions, tries to come at problems with a level head. He’s analytical and personable. Doesn’t like confrontation and does his damndest to stay out of trouble, even though it seems to have a knack for finding him. He’s been called a mediator before, finds leadership thrust upon him maybe more often than he comfortable with but always accepts it graciously. He doesn't really mind. It means that he’s trusted, that hes dependable and a hard worker. All skills he carried with him during his short stint in the Mangreian Coast Navel company. People took note of his ‘natural born leader’ qualities, and, at one point, he was even the officer of his own small regiment of soldiers. The sea is a strange, wild thing, but he met her head on with an unshakably cool demeanor and the mentality of rolling with the punches as they come, which treated him quite well for a numbers of years. However, he thinks there is very little, from his character, or his training, that could have prepared him for what he’s just walked into.

Upon opening up the door to his dorm room, Fjord is greeted by a wall of smell so thick it nearly floors him. Coughing and blinking down stinging tears, the half orc man stubbles past the threshold, clutching his suitcase to his chest. For a moment he's certirn he's somehow gotten lost because between the smell, warm and hazy and sweet, like tea leaves and cheap perfume and nail polish and stale weed, and the sudden shock o pattern, its like hes wandered into flea market tent. Everything is maroon and brightly colored silks and glittering with golden accents. Shag carpets cover the floor,  he nearly trips over them, piled one over the other over the other. Every available inch of wall space is covered in tapestries. Some are religious in nature, Fjord recognizes the blue of the Platinum Dragon and the crest of the Dawn Father, along with others he has never seen before. Others are simply whimsical, elaborate paintings of cherry trees in bloom, of peacocks, of the midnight sky full to bursting with stars, to name a few. One tapasty in particular seems to be favored over the other. While most appear to have been haphazardly hung, some even covering others as if the owner slapped them up there weather there was room or not, this one hangs alone, level and unobstructed. A shining silver crescent moon on a background of a cloudy night sky, turned on its side, with a thin piece of silver string pulled across the two points like a bow. Above and below it are to ornate arrows, the tips of which look like shooting stars. There's what looks to be a small altar underweight, or at least, that's the only way Fjord can think to describe it. It's a little table covered by a sheer blue scarf. One it a least four candles and a few sticks of incense are left burning unattended. A fucking fire hazard waiting to happen he recons. There’s no bed, in the traditional sense, but he does spy a mattress on the floor, shoved up in a corner under a thick maroon drape with gold tassels hanging from the ceiling. The mattress itself is piled high with decorative pillows and second hand quits. It seems like the bed frame has been taken down and all remains of it is a desk pressed against the door wall. A huge, gold framed mirror is perched tediously stop it, the glass covered with sticky notes and photographs save for a functionally sized bit in the center. There's makeup everywhere, jewelry spilling out of drawers and bowls. A purple velvet hand covered to the tips of every finger with rings and necklaces and bangles. Beside the makeshift vanity is a clothes rack, bursting at the seams with clothes. All color and pattern and sequins, it makes his eyes hurt. And candles, just, candles everywhere. Some lit, some burned down to nothing more than a puddle of wax on a hardwood surface. He’s basically walking into a tinderbox waiting to go up in flames.

The only part of the room that isn't obtrusive to the senses is a square of floor space to his left, into which the disaster from the other half of the room is starting to spill into. A simple dorm room bed with an empty desk and plain, bare walls.  

Hes has barely had a moment to take in the sensory overload of color and pattern and stuff, and process it before the the door is flung open and a blur of purple streaks past him. Fjord blinks, still reeling, watching as the blur darts about the room, picking up stray clothes off the floor and flinging them over at the- mattress- muttering curses  under their breath as they go. Then the blur catches Fjord staring out of the corner of their eye.

“Aw hell” they mutter, pausing just long enough for Fjord to get a good look at them.

Idling in the middle of the dorm with an armful of dirty laundry tucked under their arm, is a vibrantly lavender tiefling with long dark purple hair curling around his ears and horns. They're wearing a sky blue t shirt with the words “Wildermount Community College” printed across the chest, a lanyard with a name tag dangling from it, and shredded white jeans. Chains and bobbles and rings tinkle together gentle in their horns as they give Fjord a sheepish smile, corners of their ruby eyes crinkling upwards.

“Thought I’d of had a bit more time to tidy up before you got here, aww well.” The tiefling shrugs, and giggles, tossing the bundle of  clothes they're still holding back to the floor. “Mind as well throw your shit down, wherever”

“Ehh, yeah, thank you kindly” Fjord mumbles, moving to stiffly set his bag on top of what he assumes is his bed.

The tiefling eyes seem to sparkle as he speaks, and though the solid red of them makes it hard to tell, he feels as if he's being given a very blatant, very amused once over.

“You’re accent is adorable.” they say.

“Well I uh-” Fjord coughs awkwardly into his fist. “I- uh ‘pperticate that.”

The tiefling flashes him a wink and bit of fang as his lips curl up in a crooked, playful grin. They then turn to brisky rummage through the rack of clothes on their side of the room, tail swishing excitedly behind them.

It's then that Fjord realises he has not properly introduced himself yet. He wipes his hands off on the sides of his jeans a clears his throat with a cusoury cough. “The names Fjord, pleasure to meet ya.”

“Mollymauk” the tiefling says in the same, tripping tumbling irish lilt. Mollymauk shoots him another quick smile over his shoulder. “Molly to my friends. And we are friends now, so please, feel free to help yourself to any of my shit, if you'd like.” He’s picking clothing of the rack, holding them up to himself, then tossing a few pieces over his bed, the rest fall to the floor in a heap. “Jewelry, makeup, clothes I'm not particularly stingey, though” he pauses to look Fjord over once more. “Though I don’t think you’d fit into many of my clothes so maybe not that one. Borrowing is one thing but I do have a few pairs of jeans I would like to be able to wear again.”

To be fair to Molly, he is a very slight looking man, and Fjord only assumes Molly is a man by the tone of his voice and the span of his chest, but even  the unflattering bulk of his t shirt doesn't quite hide the slope and curve of his waist. Actually even from a distance of two feet it's hard to pin down a gender. But regardless, he is a fair bit smaller than Fjord, who is all broad shoulders and barrel chested from years of dock work.

Molly shrugs. “Anyways, my crap is your crap. Just please, be considerate, if you drink more then two beers do us both a favor and replace em and I’d rather if you ask first before you help yourself to any of my weed.” he flashes Fjord another bright smile that leaves the half-orc reeling.

There’s a lot of information being thrown at him all at once, and all very fast but he manages to stammer out a “That's- uh that's real kind of you Molly.”

A pause, and then asks because he’d rather be corrected now then cause any harm later: “I hope I’m not being’ rude by askin’ but- uh is there a specific way you’d like me to be referring to you? Other then Molly, I mean.”

To his credit, Molly seems to take the question in stride. “He and him are my go to but really, I don't take offence to much. Honestly, I’ll usually go with what gets me the best discount. “ Here he winks, reaching up for the neck of shirt.

“Good to know.” Fjord mumbles.

“Really though, it was nice of you to ask!” and without so much as a warning, Molly pulles the neck of his shirt carefully over his horns and tosses it to the ground. “Not many people are considerate like that.”

Fjord  moves to cover his eyes, acknowledging him with a nod.

“No need to be modest, this is hardly the worst state of undress you’ll see me in im sure, and I sure as hell don't mind.” Molly says, sounding a bit exasperated.

“If it's all the same to you Molly.” Fjord starts, lowering his hand but fixing his gaze at a point high on the opposite wall. “I’d appreciate a little bit of, uh privacy when it comes to sharing a space.”

Close quarters like this are nothing new to Fjord, ships tend not to have a lot of legroom when it comes to lodging. It wasn't uncommon for him to share a room with five or six other members of the crew, bunks so close you could reach out and touch your neighbor. But in all his years he's never known someone to show such a blatant disregard for decency as Molly has in the last five minutes.

Molly nods, shimmying his way into a new pair of jeans, open hawaiian shirt hanging off his shoulders. “Pity, I like to sleep naked-”

Fjord blanches, ready to protest being  greeted every morning by Molly’s scrawny lavender ass was well outside his idea of privacy. But Molly just wildy flaps a hand at him while doing up the button of his jeans with the other.

“We’ll manage, We’ll manage” He assures Fjord. “I’ll keep a set of panties under my pillow, you won’t even know!”

Fjord pales, and Molly cackles. “Kidding! I’ll wears some bloody boxers to bed, if I remember and I’m not too drunk, chriost. You live here to and you’re entitled to your privacy, if ya’ like it.”

With a shit eating grin plastered over his lips, he saunters over to Fjord, tucking the ends of his still unbuttoned shirt into his pants as he goes. “Hu? Didn’t know orcs could turn this shade of green.” and he giggles again, high and manic, but surprisingly, not unkind.  
“Right- well-” Fjord beings, but Molly turns away with a flourish and sits himself down at his makeshift vanity. The half orc does his best to compose himself. “Anyway- looks like you’re pretty set up here, Molly. How long you been on campus?”

Molly shrugs, running fingers through his loose curls. “Oh I got back about mmmmm, two weeks ago? Something like that. Sadly RAs have to come back a bit early to help get the freshman all settled.”

Fjord can't help the way his eyebrow raises in disbelief. “You’re an RA.?”

“I’m THE RA.” Molly chirps. “I do all that  peer counseling stuff, very involved in campus goings ons. I’m actually about to head out in just a moment. There’s a bonfire tonight to help build a sense of campus community and all that. You’re a transfer right? You should tag along!”  
“Now how did you know that I’m a transfer?” Fjord asks

Molly leans back from where he was preening in the mirror to flash Fjord a sharp smile. “I’m magic.” he says with a flash of ruby eyes and wiggling eyebrows, and Fjord feels his stomach pitch and his palms start to sweat.

“A- are, you really? Magic that is?” he asks. He wonders if Molly knows, if he can feel the strange energy he himself has felt pulsing in his veins ever since spring.

Molly merely shrugs again. “Oh absolutely. A fourth sorcerer on my dear mother’s side. But you know how it is with that inherent magic shite. You’ve gotta use it or you lose it, and I was forbidden from a tender age to use it after what happened to my sister. So I can’t do much, and what I can do isn't very pretty, so no need to worry about me levitating your textbooks out the window or turning you underthings into snakes if we get into it!” he ends cheerily.

So, so many questions swirl around Fjords mind he hardly knows what to ask first, each one warring for a place on the tip of his tongue. Eventually he settles on. “But- you do know about the arcane then?”

“As much as anybody else, I suppose.” Molly says. “So that's to say, not much at all really.”

Fjord furrows his brow. “But you said that your sister- your mother- it's in your family-?”

Molly rolls his eyes. “Yes but our family’s magic was cursed by The Platinum Dragon generations ago. Apparent an ancestor of mine was messing with forces that are better left be and the end result wasn't very pretty for us.” here he sighs. “I mean I suppose I could show you-”

“Would you?” Fjord asks, a bit to fast, a bit to anxiously, and Molly cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing him with his crimson gaze. He coughs. “I mean- please, by all means, I’m uh, mighty curious.”

“Tell you what.” Molly wraps his knuckles on the tabletop, licks his lips with a pierced tongue. “Buy me a drink and I’ll see what ancient magic from my cursed bloodline I can dazzle you with. Mother always warned me not to give away a story for free.”

And Fjord laughs, because he has the distinct impression that Molly is lying through his very sharp teeth. But it's charming, he's charming like a second hand arms dealer is charming. Every word out his mouth has been ballentent bullshit but it's playful bullshit, it makes you want to feed into it, if for no other reason then to see how far he’s willing to take the lie.

So Fjord chuckles and shakes his head. “Not tonight. Think I’ll go ahead and get myself settled, but another time.”

Molly grins. “I’ll hold you to that.” he says, slapping the table as he stands. He snatches his lanyard off his bed and carefully  maneuvers it around his horns.

He’s quite the sight. A lanky purple tiefling in an open, hideous hawaiian shirt and what can best be described as ‘mom jeans’ high on his hips. Arms and horns and hands heavy with bangles and glittering stones, and a ladyard dangling from his neck. He flashes Fjord one more salesman smile, he peacock feather high on his cheek crinkling with the corners of his eyes.

“I’m off then! Unless I can convince you to tag along. I really am a peer counselor and it’s my professional advice that you not spend the whole semester hidden away in our room, dear.”

Fjord rolls his eyes. “I appreciate the concern Molly, but I’m damn tired, so I’m gonna sit this one out.”

“Alright alright.” Molly throws up his hands in surrender, back towards the door “I’ll give you a pass this time, but do think you’ll get so lucky the next.”  He opens the door a steps into the hallway. “There’s no avoiding it mister Fjord! I know where you live!” with a final wink, Molly shuts the door, leaving Fjord alone in the loud, gaudy room, shaking his head.

He’s met many strange people in his life, occupational hazard of working on and around ships. Ports are melting pots of different folks from all sorts of unusual places. And yet nothing could have prepared him for Molly, and he’s quite alright with that.

 

Beauregard paces

It's sort of her thing. Her body always hums with unspent energy, a constant, defiantly little flame in her belly that refuses to be snuffed out, and the gods know, oh how they know how people have tried. But there’s thunder in her veins that pushes her to move, to never settle. Even when she's idle and content, she fidgets. Jogging legs under tables, bouncing feet, tapping fingers. How her little ticks would get her in trouble as a child, slouched over in a chair, one leg kicking out in wild, frustrated boredom before she was yanked up by the collar and told to sit straight. She always moving. And whens she’s stressed, or worried, or just pissed the hell off, she finds the best way to elevate the mounting pressure is to get up and move.

And so she paces the length of her dorm room like a tiger caught in a cage, fingers furling and unfurling at her sides as she maps the length of her newest prison by foot.

She's absolutely fucking pissed,  but really she shouldn't have been so surprised. When she’d woken up two day ago with all her shit packed up in the back of a carriage. They had warned her, hardly, but she's remembers the thinly veiled threats spat her way over the dinner table. It just never occurred to her that they would actually go through with it. Then again, and the thought makes another brilliant flare of bitter rage spring up in her guts, this shouldn't be a surprise. Her parents, her father, they've always taken the opportunity to send her away. This was just the next logical step after every other shitty thing they'd done for her. But still she had thought, she had dreamed really, that her father's threats were hollow. That he wasn't actually going to go through with this.

Then he had shoved a toothbrush into her hand and had her packed up in the carriage with the same uncaring gaze as the rest of the leggage and sent her on her way. She has no idea what he’s thinking. Nothing he has ever done has made her settle, has made her behave. Not private tutors or teachers that tried so hard to instill some edicate in her. Not the crowns guard or the overnight stays in the town's little jailhouse, meant to teach her a lesson. Not the hollow threats or screaming lectures or the cold empty stares that pierced her like arrow tips from over the rim of wire spectacles. Not even the monks at reform school had been able to break her, and Beau feels a flare of pride at that. That her father, for maybe the first time in his life, had not been able to just throw money at a problem and make it go away. No. she’d come back from the monastery just as brazen and rude and defiant as she had gone in, and sat her ass down in the chair across from him and put her feet up on the fucking table just to watch the way that vein in his temple twitched. No, the monks hasn't broken her. She’d been forged in fire and come back more clear, more refined. More herself then she thinks she's ever been. Stronger.

And clearly that would not do. Bearly home for a week and her father had dropped the bomb on her that she would be attending university at the end of the month. That she was to prepare herself to to take over the business, because the only thing her father cares about more than his reputation is the continuation of his legacy. And with no other hiers, the responsibility would fall on her no matter how hard she fought it.

The first day had been rough.

Her handlers dropped her off on campus the day before to her uproarious protesting. She’d screamed and kicked and cursed. Put her fist through the wall and felt a feral thrill of triumph knowing that her father would sooner pay the school to keep quiet then admit that his daughter is an ‘ill mannered bitch”. She spent the rest of the day holed up in her room, refused to go out and participate in any of the bullshit, required orientation activities. She never done what she's been told and she surely doesn't plan to start listening now. She’s not going to follow the stupid agenda they gave her, she's not going to sit around a fucking bonfire and sing camp songs or whatever the hell the school thinks is going to bring her closer to her fellow classmates. She sure as hell isn't going to play nice with her roommate, has yet to arrive. She not going to be cooperative. She going to find a way to draw this out, bleed her dad out, see how much money he’s really willing to invest in her before he finally gives up and leaves her the hell alone.

It's always been like this between them. Their strained relationship. Pushing and pushing each other to see who breaks first. And Beau knows one thing for certain, it sure as hell isn't going to be her.

Beauregard paces. Feet pounding against the floor so her can see the reverberations in the suddering of her bed frame.

And then there’s a knock at the door of her room

Beau freezes, heart in her throat. Before she can find her voice she hears the grind if a key in the lock and then the door comes swinging open.

A little blue tiefling girl shoulders he way in, hefting far more luggage in her arms then Beau would have assumed she could carry on her own. The girl huffs, blowing blueberry blue bangs out of her face as she drags her bags past the threshold of the door and flinging them down to the floor. When this is the done the girl nurses her hands off on her skirt and turns on her heel to face Beau, whos still stunned in place.

The tiefling flashes her a cute, slightly shocked, smile. “Oh! I didn’t think anybody else was here yet!” in the flurry of skirt and silver jewelry she rushes up to Beau, hand outstretched, “Hi, I’m Jester”

Beau blinks

And blinks again

Then, eventually, she takes Jester’s offered hand. “I- uh- Beauregard, or just Beau actually, i prefer Beau.”

Jester nods, giving her hand a very hard, very firm shake. “It’s so nice nice to meet you Beau!” she chirps. “Oh my gosh can I just say that you are like, basically one of the prettiest girls that i have even seen, basically. Your hair is so cool”

“Uuuuh.” Beau stammers. “The- thanks?,,, i guess. “

Jester beams. “You are so welcome.” she turns back to her bags and starts to unpacking them.

Beau eases herself back to sit on her own bed, almost in a daze as she watches her roommate excitedly pull odds and end out of her many bags. Probably a rich girl, she thinks, watching Jester throw a fluffy, brightly colored duvet over her bed. Not like she can talk, but at least so doesn’t flaunt in in peoples faces. Her knee bounces erratically as she watches Jester work. The little tiefling hums cheerily, chucking at least a dozen very soft looking pillows onto her mattress. She hops up on the bed and, much to Beau’s curious amusement, starts hanging fairy light. Crisscrossing on the ceiling, down the wall, around the headboard of her bed and then winding them down the legs to the floor. Beau chuckles and Jester glances at her over her shoulder.

Quickly she tries to cover the laughter with a cough, cracking her fingers. “Sorry- I um, I’m sorta uh a people watcher, ya know, like, i like to try and figure people out from like, their body language and stuff.”

“Oh! I don't mind” Jester says.

“Those are fucking adorable by the way.” Beau adds.

At this Jester’s whole face glows. “I know right?! My mom got them for me, they’re magic so like they can glow for like, basically forever.”

“Really?” Beau asks.

Jester nods. “Yeah, and they can like, change color and stuff, they’re super cool.” she moves to reach back into her bag, and pauses, gaze fixd one point just past Beau’s shoulders. “Oh no!, did we get a shitty room with a hole in the wall?” she asks.

“I- uh- I did that actually.” Beau flushes, but rolls her shoulders back regardless, determined to seem unfazed by her lack of self control. “You know it like, gives the place character and shit.”

“Ooooh” Jester nods along with her explanation, fingers pressed to her mouth.

Then she flings her arms out, wide and sudden. A gust of wind comes blasting into the room, nearly tearing the lights from the ceiling and making the blinds rattle wildly against the window frame. The door to their room flies open with a resounding bang as it screeches on its hinges and slams into the wall. Beau jumps half out of her skin, Jester grins mischievously at her. Slowly, the door creaks closed once more, revealing a perfectly round hole in the wall where the doorknob punched into the drywall.

“Like that?” Jester asks, the perfect pictures of innocence, expect for the dangerous gleam in her purple eyes.

“Jester holy shit.” Beau says, vaulting off her bed to inspect the new hole. “That was fuckin awesome!” Jester giggles. “Can you do magic and shit.”

The little tiefling nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, the Traveler taught me how to do all sorts of really cool stuff.”

“Traveler-?” Beau asks. The monks had sort of insisted that she study up on the gods and patrons of the world , but this name doesn’t ring any bells. That might just be because she was a shitty student though so she just must have forgotten it.

Jester is bouncing on the balls of her feet. “The Traveler is, like, basically the best, coolest god of like all of the gods, basically, and he is super powerful.” she says in rush. “He taught me how to do a lot of really cool stuff liiiike, how to make my voice like, super loud and scary and open doors with my miiiind and like, how to heal people and stuff.”

Beau nods, sort of following what Jester is saying. “Oh so your like a cleric?” her family had their own personal cleric. They had a stick up their ass but they never had a problem putting her broken nose back into place.

“I’m not like- a cleric cleric.” Jester says with a huff. “Just because i can like- fix up broken bones and stuff doesn’t mean that I’m like- The Healer-”

“Right, right, but like- didn’t you have to like- go to school or like- church camp or something.” Beau says.

Jester shrugs. “I mean like- i guess i was in clerics guild from a little bit, but i was like, super super boring and they didn't even have shrines or temples for the Traveler there, like anybody would want to worship someone else. But like basically it was awful and so my  mom helped me to transfer here instead.”

“Oh-’ Beau nods, slowly. “So- so not a cleric then.”

“Nope” Jester signs, popping the ‘p’ “I’m just really good at fixing people up.”

“Sounds kinda like a cleric.” beau says. Jester shrugs. “So what are you studying instead?”

“I’m going to be an artist.” Jester says, the mischievous gleam back in her eyes. “Not to like, brag or anything, but I’m really good. I should show you sometime!”

“Yeah, why the hell not.” Beau leans against wall, arms crossed.

“What about you?” Jester asks.

Beau shrugs, rolls her neck a bit until she hears it pop. “I uhh- undecided.” she says. It not completely a lie, it's true enough to her anyway. While technically she's in the business and communications programs those are her dad’s majors, not hers. She has no fucking clue what she wants to do with her life and, honestly, she shouldn’t have to know right now anyway. She's only twenty two.

Jester hummus in response to this, absently fluffing her pillows. “Aww I was kinda hoping that you would also be an art major so that we would be in class together” she shrugs. “It’s fine, I’m sure we are still going to be the best of friends.”

Any lingering annoyance or misgivings Beau might had had about her roommate immediately evaporate. This girl is too sweet, and not even in the fake, proformative way that the girls at boarding school had been. Jester is genuinely sweet.

“Hey- do you, do want help unpacking.” she offers weakly. Nice isn’t really something she's had a lot of practice with but helping is something people do right? They’re going to be living together for the next year anyways, maybe Beau can at least- try to met Jester halfway.

 

“Absolutely fuck this Jester, I do not want to be here.” Beau says. Her boot heels are turned into the dirt defintly as Jester drags her along by the wrist

‘Quit being such a baby Beau.” The little tiefling rolls her eyes.

With Beau’s help, unpacking had gone much quicker much to Jesters delight. She had been so worried that it would take her hours and and hours and hours to empty out her bags and get everything situated just as she wanted and she would miss all the fun tonight. But her roommate had unpacks her boxes, and Jester had hung up all her posters, and after westling her cloths into the far to small dressers she had snatched up Beau’s hand and dragged them out the door to join in the festivities.

Beau isn’t nearly as excited as she is but Jester refuses to let that ruin her good time. The quad has been transformed into a festival ground. Paper lanterns hang between food stalls and game booths, little carts sell sparklers and flower crowns. And there are people everywhere. So many many people, everywhere Jester looks is a new face, beaming and having a wonderful time. People milling about and chatting together, people congregating around the game booths, whooping and hollering, people stretched out on the lawn or sitting around the now low burning bonfire. People in sky blue t shirts flit between groups, engage others in enthusiastic conversation, a few hand out pamphlets. Everything is so loud and warm and bright and the air is full of laughter and conversation that it makes happy little bubbles well up deep in Jester’s chest, despite the fact that her roommate is kind of beings a spoilsport. The fair is like a scene from one of her storybooks, the ones she would read when her mother was busy and the Traveler had not visited for a few days. She used to sit in her at her window seat with a candle in one hand and a book perched in her lap and read about young maidens sneaking away to big fancy parties, imagining it was her that was out their making friends and dancing. A silly grin blooms across her face as she thinks that maybe she will get to dance with a handsome prince for real.

“OooH Beau look!” skirt fluttering around her knees Jester all but drags her resistant roomie over to one of the pushcarts. A halfling girl with dark eyes and tightly coiled black hair offers her a secret smile as she approaches, her arms ladened with flower crowns.

“Hi! I’m Jester” Jester says, breathless and bouncing with excitement.

The halfling nods. “Hello Jester. Are you interested in one of these?”

Jester nods furiously. “Oh yes, they’re super pretty.”

“Thank you, i grew the flowers myself, what colors did you want?” she asks.

“Those two!” Jester flaps a hand at the two near the end of her right writs, one with  purple and pink flowers woven together, the other blue and green.

The halfling nods again, extracting the two she indicated from the farm and passing them over to Jester. “That’ll be six copper for the lot.” she says, and Jester digs into her coin purse and passes her the money.

“You have a wonderful rest of your night.” She tell the flower girl with a bright smile. “I hope you sell lots and lots of theses”

The girl tips her head in thanks and Jester dives back into the crowd in search of her next adventure, Beau in tow.

“Here you Beau.” she trusts the crown wit the blue and green petals into Beaus hands.

“Aw shit Jester, crap like this isn’t- ya know- isn’t really like- my thing.” she tires to object, pushing the flowers back in Jesters direction, but the little blue tiefling shakes her head.  
“We’re at a party Beau.” She says. Careful she maneuvers her own crown around her horns so that it sits prettily round the crown of her head. “You can like- at least pretend your having fun.”

Beau lets out a long, exaggerated raspying groan, head flung back and shoulder sagging as if the mere concept is chore. “Fiiiine, fine.” she crams the flowers onto her head. “Happy now?”

Jester nods, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Very much. Now come on, let's try some of the food. Oh! Oh! I think I saw somebody selling candy apples over but the stairs! I’ve never had them from a chart before.” and she takes off at jog towards the stairs that lead down into the grass lawn of the quad. Beau follows her with no resistance this time.

“You've never had street food before?” she asks as they approach the stand. A half orc man is passing sugar coated apples on sticks to a giggling group of elven girls.

Jester hums appositely in response as they join the cue. “My mom would just like, buy me big boxes of candies and sweets whenever i wanted them. This is the first party like this I’ve ever been too.” they set forward

“What can I get for you?” the half orc asks jovial. Small tusks poke out from under his bottle lip.

“Two of your best candy apples please.” Jester says, and he nods, turning to pull to from the rack and handing them to her. “Thank you very much.” she dropped the coin on the counter and sunters away.

“So do you like- not have harvest festival where you're from?” Beau asks as Jester passes her one of the apples.

Jester shrugs. “I’m pretty sure we did, i just didn’t get to go because I had to stay inside all the time.” she nibbles at her apple.

“Oh” Beau say “Were you like a sick kid or something. “

“No no nothing like that.” Jester says with a dismissive wave of ehr hand. “Mom is like, pretty famous and it would have been pretty shitty for her reputation if people found out she had a kid, you know.”

“So she made you stay inside all the time?” she asks.  
“Yuuuup” Jester replies, popping her ‘p’ at the end.

Beau is scrutinizing her with a piercing blue stare. “Weren’t you fuckin- i don’t know, lonely?”

Jester cocks her her to the side. “Why would I have been lonely? I had my mom, and the Traveler would visit me all the time so it not like i didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

“Right,,” Beau says, slowly.  “That's still kinda fucking weird, you know that right?”

She shrugs again. “It’s not so weird to me, it's just like, how i grew up.”

“That’s fair I guess.” Beau nods the takes a very big bite out of her apple.

They peruse the stands for a while, Jester anxious to try every sweet or baked good presented to her and Beau eventually has to cut her off both once their pockets are full to bursting with small pastries wrapped in cloth. She’s even able poke and prod the human into playing a couple of the fair games with in the name of friendly competition. She finds the Beau is just as aggressively competitive as she is, and while they don’t wine any of the prizes because, according to Beau the games are all “rigged up bullshit”, they still have a good laugh regardless. Eventually the sun starts to dip under the tops of the campuses tall buildings, and the sky becomes of pale wash of blues and pinks. They take a break from walking around and settle themselves at one of the small tables set up on the lawn. Beau is pouring over a pamphlet that blue shirted dwarf had given them, while Jester tears napkins into equal sized squares.

“Damn, this place has a lotta fucking clubs.” Beau proclaims. Jester peeks up from her work to the long list of activities her friend points to. “Ton of arcane shit, archery, fencing- oh fuck gymnastics- wrestling,,,”

“What really? They have a wrestling team.” Jester says, stand up in her chair and leaning way over so she can read the very small print over Beau shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Beau fixes her with an inquisitive look. “Really?”

Jester nods. Slowly she lowers herself back down into her seat. “Yes, yes, I’m really strong and its sounds like, super duper fun.” carefully she sweeps together all the little squares of paper sheds made into a neat pile, pulls a pen from her bag and starts writing.

“If you says so,,” She hears Beau mutter under her breath. Then, louder this time. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making pamphlet for the Traveler so I can hand them out to people.” Jester hums back. “I haven’t seen any shrines for him here either, but like, if enough people here know how great he is they would like basically have to build a shrine for him, basically.”

“I don't think that’s how that works.” Beau says. Jester sticks her tounge out at her.

“You two seem to be having an interesting time” someone says, and they both turn to face them.

The prettiest tiefling Jester has ever seen, second only to her own mother of course, is leaning over their table. A vibrant lavender tiefling with eyes like shiny red pearls and inky purple hair curling around his high cheekbones, wearing a brightly patterned button up shirt and a winning smile. He horns are bedecked a bedazzled with glittering gold and silver hoops and piercings, and his pointed ears heavy with rings. Just like a real prince would, she thinks excitedly. The pretty tiefling catches her wondering wide eyed staring and gives her a wink.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf.” he says, ducking his head in mock bow with the added flourish of a hand. “Molly to my friends.”

“I’m Jester!” Says Jester.

Molly's smile pushes wider, seeming thrilled by her enthusiasm. “Oh Jester! What a wonderful name. And you, dear?”

he looks towards Beau, who folds her arm stiffly over her chest. “Beau.”

“Jester and Beau” he repeats. “Jester and Beau” He pulls out a chair, spins it on a leg then plops down into it with his long legs straddling the back. “ are you enjoying yourselves this fine evening?” he asks

Jester nod, pressing her hands to her chest. “I am having a wonderful time, thank you” she says. “I have never been to party this big before in my whole life basically, there are so many things to do”

“Wait till i see the Yule festival.” Molly says, wrapping his knuckles on the tabletop. “Nearly twice as big as this i would image, what with the whole school involved.”

She can almost see it, like a rose tinted, pearlescent painting. The food stalls all gently blanketed by a layer of snow, the soft glow candles in windows and in trees, merry relverly, couples walking hand in hand though a flurry of puffy white snowflakes.

“That sounds really fun” she says.

Molly leans over the back of his chair towards her. “Can I tell you secret?” Jester leans over as well. “It’s very fun” he giggles and falls back into his seat. “Anyway, they're going to start shooting off fireworks in moment, once the sun goes down, but i was wondering you you two would like to come play a little game with me and a few of my new friends.”

“Oh absolutely!” Jester croons at the same moment Beau rasps out a “Not interested.”

Smile never weaving, Molly fixes Beau with a pointed look. “Aw come on, it’ll be a lot more fun than mopping here all by yourself.”

“I don’t play kiddie games.” Beau says, mumbles really, sinking down lower in her chair.

“Oh” Molly says, watching Beau for good long moment before he shrugs. “You’re one of those ones then.”

Beau shoulder rise defensively, like the fur on the back of startled cat. “The fucks that suppose to mean?” she barks.

The deep red of Molly's eyes shift as he rolls them, “One of those people who think they’re too cool or too whatever to have any fun, in which case I’m more than happy to leave you to your exhausting bitterness.” His smirk turns sharp as he says this.

“I’m sorry about my roommate. “ Jester says, butting in before Beau can retaliate . “She has like, the biggest stick up her butt.”

Molly pushes out of his chair with an non committal flapping of his hand. “It’s fine. Best to just let miserable people be miserable. But you said you were interested, Jester dear?”

Jester casts a sidelong look Beau’s way, her conflicting feelings showing in her pleading, puffed out lower lip and her big, guilt eyes. She really, really , really wants to go with this very pretty tiefling and see what he and his mysterious friends are up to. It sounds way more exciting then sitting here a sketching while everyone else is having fun. At the same time she will feel super guilty if she just up at ditches her new friend like this. It's a tough choice. Things never used to be this hard when it was just her and the Traveler.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Molly?” Jester asks in a small voice.

Beau shakes her head. “Nah- he kinda seems like a dick.” she says, staring Molly dead in the face as she does.

Molly places a ring ladened hand over his heart. “You flatter me.”

This time it's Beau would rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna sit this one out-” she spares Jester a look out of the corner of her eye. “But if you wanna go I’m not gonna stop you.”

“You won’t be, like, mad that I ditched you right.” Jesters insists. “I don’t want to leave you all by yourself.” it seems so mean, to leave Beau all alone. Beau shakes her head again.

“It’s cool dude go, have fun. I was getting tired anyway.” She stands, kicking back her chair. She pats Jester’s shoulder awkwardly “I’ll see you back at the room.”

“Okay” Jester says, offering Beau a final smile as she departs, hands deep in her pockets.

Incessant tapping on her shoulder draws her attention back to Molly, who's drumming his splayed fingers on the back of his chair.

“Come on Jester dear, musten keep everyone waiting!”

 

Morning classes, while in theory are perfect for commuters that don't wish to spend a whole day stranded on campus and an easy way to clump lectures into manageable blocks of time, are decidedly not worth the price of admission. Caleb had not realized he was definitely not a morning person until he experienced truely how forsaken five in the morning is. On Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays Caleb first class starts at eight fifteen. Which mean on Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays Caleb has to wake up before seven to give himself enough time to get to campus in a timely manner. Which means on Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays Caleb has to have alarms set for five forty, six twenty and six forty if he has any hope of dragging himself, corpse like, out of bed by six forty five. Every Monday Wednesday and Friday Caleb struggles to make his haggard form look presentable in ten minutes so he has just enough time to scarf down the cereal bar Not always thrusts into his hand as still be out the door at seven o three. Then a forty five minute scooter ride gets him to campus at seven forty eight, which gives him just enough time to drop by the campus coffee shop and still be seated in his Alchemy class by eight o five. This is how his Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays have gone since classes have started.

Its seven forty five on a Wednesday today and Caleb is sitting cross legged on Notts duck taped sofa, drowsy and recently sleep tousled in pair of ill fitting sweatpants and some thin cotton socks. He scratches at the pillow folds still pressed into his cheek as he pours over the papers spread over his lap, perpetual crease between his heavy brows growing steadily deeper.

Distantly he hears a door open and close, then the pattern of Nott little feet picking a way through the very limited floor space.

“Caleb? What are still doing here?” She asks, because its seven forty six on a Wednesday and he is sitting on their couch with his tangled hair pulled in a tight bun at the top if his head. “Oh gods, you're not feeling sick are you Caleb?”

Caleb shakes his head once in a frim, jerking manner, eyes not lifting from the page. “Nein, Nott, I am feeling just fine” as fine as a thirty three year old man in questionable health can feel at this hour of the morning anyway. His joints are all stiff and he has full body fatigue but that's normal.

“Oh- alright then.” Nott says, because she has known him long enough to be able to decipher the difference between when he really is fine, and when he is lying about being fine because it might afford him another hour or two of reading. He hears Nott scuttle off in the direction of the kitchen. “What are you doing home, don't you have class right about now?”

Caleb shrugs, it is also a stiff, awkward motion. “Usually, but not today. The professor had said he would not be in today because of a family emergency.” he flips the page he's holding with far more force than is generally needed to turn a page, squinting down at the text because perhaps in his frustration he’s been reading too fast.

Nott hisses somewhere in the distance. “Well that seems like such a waste, you’re paying for them to be there, they should be there, or at least the schools should give you your gold back.”

“That is not how it works Libling” Caleb says. He continues to squint accusing down at his papers, as if they are intentionally while holding information from him.

The shifting of pans. “Well then they should change that. Who is this- this ‘professor’ anyway that he thinks he can just not show up to work.”

“Ah- that would be professor Yeza” his eyes are starting to arch from how hard he’s looking at this one page, desperately willing it to yield its secrets to him. So far it has not been an advantageous strategy.

There’s a cacophonous clatter of pots and pan from the kitchen and a startled yelp that enough to steal Caleb’s attention. He half out of his seat, fully thinking he is going to have to rescue Nott from a tomb of cast iron when he hears her shrinking voice call out.  
I’m fine! I’m fine! Everything's fine!” She shrieks. More cookware clatters against the tile. “Fuck! AH-!”

Crouched over the cushions, hand still on the arm rest,Caleb listens to more scuttling, and the scraping of iron against iron. “Are you alright Nott?”

“Everything’s fine!” she says again, each time less convincing than the last. “I’ve got it all under control now, all of the pots are on the floor!”

Caleb lets out a hefty sigh, dropping back down on the sofa.  
“You-- ugh, you said his- his name was-?” Nott asks.

“Yeza, ja” Caleb answers.

“And - and you’re sure about that then?” she inquires

Though she can't see it Caleb taps two fingers to his temple, looking weary. “Ja, quite sure.” Then he asks her. “Are you asking for a reason?”

“Nope!” comes her shrill response. “No reason at all! Just wondering?”

Caleb sighs again, gives his papers another cursor glace before tossing the wad of them onto the coffee table. He doesn't have time to keep pursing them now, his second class of the day begins in an hour and a half. Standing and stretching, he glances over at the kitchen where he can still hear heavy pans being dragged across old tiles, and kicks off his sweats. In a heap on the floor behind the couch where he’d left them the day before are a pair of jeans, so old and so patched that its impossible to discern the original fabric. He slips them on, rummages through a pile of laundry for shirt, not bothering to check if its clean because hardly any of his shirts are ever clean. Nott is not big enough to heft they’re laundry down to cleaners and he never has enough time. So the best he can hope for is a shirt that show no visible signs of its state if unwash. Simple black t shirts do well to hide stains and so he has many of them for the sake of convenience. Once he’s dressed, he pulls his hair out of its knotted bun and runs long fingers through it a few times to get it to lie flat and now he almost looks like a person.

“I am leaving Nott.” he says poking his head into the kitchen. “I will probably not be back until late.”

Nott is sitting in the middle of a fallen city of cookware. Apparently she wasn't behind hyperbolic when she had said that all of the pots were now on the floor. Big, guilty gold eyes peer up at Caleb from the floor.

“Alright- do you have your Stone with you?” she asks. Whether she's simply to tired or too scared to disturb the tedious nature of the iron spires that surround her, she makes no move to stand.

Caleb nods. Carefully he works his way the broken battlements to where Nott is and offers her a hand. “Ja, I left it in my coat pocket so that i would not forget it again, Are you planning to open the shop today?”

She grabs tight to his offered arm and Caleb lifts her gracelessly from the heart of the wreckage. “I will- I’ll go a bit later, i think, after I’ve uuuuh I’ve cleaned up a bit,,,”

Caleb smiles, pats her on the head affectionately. “Alright. And you will be safe, yes? Do not forget to put on your mask?”

Nott bats at his hand Not unlike Frumkin would, more playful than mean. “I won’t forget it.” she says and Caleb nods, moving to the front door.

He lacecs up his scuffed up, taped together leather boots and pulls his old duster from the coat rack.

“Have a good day Caleb!” Nott calls. “Learn lots of smart things!” the clattering of pans follows this and Nott screeches.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I will try. See you tonight.” he says, none hand on the doorknob. Again he glances over the the folded stack of papers on the coffee table and after a moment of deliberation, Caleb walks over and shoves then into the inter pocket of his jacket, beside his spellbook. Perhaps he will have more time to look these over later.

 

It’s eight thirty five when he gets to campus and Caleb is quit grateful that he takes Nott’s scooter to university because the only parking left are the small spaces designated for small vehicles like his own. He still has time before class, at least twenty minutes before he has to trudge his way across campus. His feet lead him in the familiar direction of the big main building at the far side of the quad, towards the little coffee shop. The campus is far more alive at half past eight then it is just before seven, understandably so. It's still early harvest season so the morning is comfortably cool and there’s just enough sunlight to make it feel like proper day. The quad is not as still and empty as he passes through it. Two kenku sit at a table outside the dining hall, picking at their breakfast. A gnomish man with a cup of coffee the size of his forearm shuffles past him in the opposite direction, rubbing his eyes. Down on the lawn people lounge in the grass, books propped up in their laps or else chatting quietly with friends because it is still too early to be rowdy or loud. He does, however, spot a familiar looking lavender tiefling as well, the one with the glittering baubles in his horns that made Nott’s palms itch. He seems to be leading a small group in yoga, of all things. Caleb continues on, quickly moving out of the way as a stout dwarven woman jogs past him.

Much the same as the quad, the big main building is packed then it usually is, the line is longer and the space is filled with the low drone of distant conversation and when he gets to the counter, it is not the usual barista that greets him, a handsome human man, but a little blue tiefling instead. She smiles much wider than most people who work at this hour would, hair pulled back in a poofy bun between her horns at the top of her head.

“Hello! Are you ready to order?” She asks, accent thick and unfamiliar to him.

Caleb hesitates to answer. He can see his usual barista behind her and briefly wonders how rude it would be to outright ask if he could be the one to take his order because he is personable and more importantly, familiar, and this girl is vibrant and strange. But he’s clearly blending drink for other orders and the thought of interrupting him makes Caleb’s stomach tight so instead he squares is shoulders and gazes past this blue tiefling's left ear.

“Egh- black, coffee please, large” he says, discreetly picking at his nails with his hands cramp deep in his pockets

The little tiefling girl nods. “One- black- coffee!” she says, narrating the order as she jots it down.

“And - ah- with five shots of espresso, please. “ he adds nervously.

Her eyebrow disappear under her blueberry bangs. “Five whole shots!” she says, too loud, and Caleb cringes. He can feel eyes boring into his back. The  tiefling continues. “That’s like- a lot a lot of caffeine, like I’m not like, a doctor or anything but that seems like, a dangerous amount of caffeine.”

“Ja” Caleb mumbles, teeth on edge and voice low so as not to attract any more attention . “Ja, I aware of that, can you please-”

“It’s fine Jester.” the handsome human man says, wiping his hands on his aporn before reaching around her for the ticket. “He comes in a lot, I’ve got it.” he gives Caleb and nod and Caleb nods back and then he excuses himself back to his station. Jester, the little blue tiefling, gives Caleb and scrutinizing once over and he shrivels back in his coat despite having a foot of height on this girl.

“You probably shouldn’t drink that much caffeine all the time, i will make you sick.” she says, rather sternly for such a sweet looking girl.

Caleb sighs. “I am well aware of that” he says, knowing full well he would feel much sicker without it at this point. He is tired but also needs to make the most of his time, coffee sustains his terrible habits.

He pays, and moves to the side, settling  down on a stool, his stool really, at the counter, and pulls out the papers from his pocket. Maybe differently lighting will show him the loopholes he’s been missing, he starts to read the pages over once again. At some point his drink is place down beside him and he relishes in the burn of it in his hand.

“Hey” a gruff voice to his right says. “You’re kinda in my seat buddy.”

Caleb looks up owlishly to find a relatively tall, relatively young looking human woman giving him the most terrible stink eye, arms folded tight over her chest. This woman is going to break my arm, is Caleb’s first numb thought as she takes another step towards him. He opens his mouth to stammer out a panicked apology when Jester pops up.

‘Leave him alone Beau, he was here first and he needs its because he looks super shitty and exhausted. “ she tells Beau, the young human woman. And now Caleb opens his mouth to tell her off because, maybe he looks at bit haggard but calling his appearance ‘super shitty and exhausted’ is uncalled for but she turns to him with a roll of her eyes before he can get the words out. “I’m sorry about her, she can be really grumpy first thing in the morning.”

Beau rolls her eyes, but backs down, slumping over in the stool next to Caleb.  She eyes him over. “What’s your name?”

“I-umh Caleb- Widogast. “ he stammers, floundering from the odd direction this conversation just took.

Beau nods. “M Beau” she then nods over at Jester. “N that’s Jester.”

Caleb nods like didn’t already pick this information up from the conversation.

“I haven’t seen you around here before?” Beau continues, she rests her chin on her folded arms. “You new or something.”

“Nein, I- you know, usually my classes start earlier.” Caleb says. He very much hopes his professor never calls off of class again because this morning has been a personal nightmare. 

He tries to end the conversation there, shifting in his seat so he’s turned away from Beau, staring intently at his papers again. It does nothing.

“What’cha reading.” she asks.

“Important things.” Caleb replies, tersely.  
“What sorta important things.” Beau probs. “Like, school important things or like, life important things?”

“School” he says.

“You know-” Jester says suddenly and out of nowhere. “You’re actually like- really handsome, even though you look like you slept in dumpster last night.” Caleb frowns deeply at her, expressing his displeaser in the deep furrow of his brows. Jester smiles back, expressing how little she cares for his displeasure in the curl of her lips. “What are you reading Caleb?” she asks in a deep, warbling voice.

Caleb sigh, flicks a page over in exasperation. Nott was right, this school is full of weirdos, prying, probing weirdos.

“It is application for classroom accommodations.” he admits. His brow is still deeply furrowed as he tells them this. “I- uh- I need official documentation from the university so that I can have my cat in lecture with me.”

“OOOoooooH you have a little kitty!” Jester croons, all but collapsing onto the counter with her round cheek in her hand.

Beau gives him a look. Not judgmental or cold, merely curious. “Never heard of service cat before. Is that like a normal thing? Service cats?”

Caleb shrugs. “He helps with my ah- my anxieties- i suppose is how you would say it. And he is not exactly a normal cat anyway.”

Jester squeaks and gasps. “Oh, what kind of cat is he? A little working kitty with a cute little vest?”

He shakes his head. “He is a magic cat.” and, oh what the hell, he thinks. Caleb snaps his fingers and Frumpkin appears on his shoulders in a puff of pink smoke. He watches Jester near die with excitement, fist squished to her cheeks, and feels a small tinge of pride, or at the very least a thrill of something warm in his gut. Frumpkin's claws in his jacket and his weight and warmth on the back of his neck calm his nerves, even as Jester gasps shrilly, causing people to pause.

“Oh my gosh he is just the cutest, most perfect kitty in the whole wide world!” Jester croons, half laying on the counter to get as close as she can. “Come here, pretty kitty, come say hi to meeeeee!”

A brittle smile focus its way onto Caleb’s lips. With a thought he directs Frumkin to go and bump his head against Jester's outstretched hand and the girl need sobs with joy. She bundles Frumpkin up in her arms, a feat she only manages because Caleb reminds his cat to says calm, nuzzling her face on the top of his head as she babbles.

“You are the most wonderful little kitty in the world. I love you, you are perfect and squishy and round and I just want to give you kisses forever because you are a good good boy.” she says, scratching Frumkin in the scruff of his chin.

Beau reaches out and gives his cat a few pats on the head. “This is the best cat, man.” she says. “I get why he would help, he just like, makes me feel super calm and shit, ya know.”

“Ja, he is a very good cat.” Caleb says, unable the keep the fondness out of his voice. Frumpkin is the best cat and he deserves all the attention he’s receiving. “Unfortunately, the school will not permit him in classes unless I have the paperwork, and the office of accommodations will not give me that paperwork without notation from a physician , which I- cannot obtain- at this time.” he ends vaguely. He has not seen a doctor of any sort in the last five years and doesn’t plan to see one soon. All his old medical records  are inaccessible to him anyway. He’s been looking for the past few days for a work around for this but his efforts have proven fruitless. There is simply no way that he will be allowed to have Frumpkin in lectures with him without documentation.

“Oh no!” Jester says, looking every bit as miserable as Caleb feels. “That is so horrible, Caleb.”

“Man fuck all that legislative bullshit.” says Beau. “It’s so fucked that some people gotta jump through all these hoops and shit just so they can have the same experiences other people get for free.”

“Ja,,,” Caleb nods, not expecting such surprisingly sage understanding from someone who looks as a young as her. “But, uh- you know, I will manage, somehow,,,”

Jester gnaws on her lower lip a moment before setting Frumpkin back down on the counter. “Do either of you have any really nice paper?”

Caleb hesitates, then nods slowly. “I have a- a bit,,,”

“Can I have a piece please?” she asks, through her outstretched hand leaves little room for argument. So Caleb reaches into his satchel and, carefully, pulls out a single sheet of his very nice spell paper. A gift from Nott for getting accepted into the school.

Jester snatches it from his hand, uncaps a pen with her teeth, then descends on the page.

“I’m like- really good a making forgeries.” she tells Caleb. “I will make you a note that you can give to the accommodation people so that they will have to let you take Frumpy with you to class.”

Caleb’s stomach drops “Nein- Jester please, you do not have to do that.” he says in a rushed whisper. He doesn't want to think what something like this might cost him. He doesn't have that kind of money.

She waves him off. “Don’t be silly Caleb, it super dumb that they won’t let you have your cat in class just because you don't have a stupid doctors note.”

And well- Jester isn’t wrong, and he would really like to be able to have Frumkin with him in lectures again. So he sits back on his stool with his mouth shut and lets her finish. It takes about ten minutes but finally, Jester pushes the piece of paper back into his hands, looking rather smug. Caleb eyes it over.

It looks quite official and he's has to applause Jester’s penmanship because the lettering neat like it is on the rest of his forms. She's even included a very professional looking signature at the bottom.  
“And thats’ like, a real doctor that knows my mom so i can tell her to tell him to act like he wrote it if the school ever wants to send him like, a letter asking about it” she says matter of factly.

Caleb stares slack jawed at the forged document, then up at Jester. “T-Thank you for this, Jester”

She smiles and shrugs, “It's the right thing to do right? I want to help you have your sweet little kitty in class if you need.” she reaches over and scratches frumpkin between the ears. “Even if you are a bit stinky”

Caleb opens his mouth, the promptly shuts it, instead slipping the paper into his bag. “Well- thank you, but I have to head off to class but ah”

“Okay! See you later Caleb!” Jester says, waving him off as he stands, wrapping Frumpkin around his neck like a scarf “stop by and visit okay!!”

Caleb nod once, raises an awkward hand in farewell to her and Beau and shuffles off as fast as he can, sure that he probably will not run into theses very odd people ever again.


	2. Meet and Greet pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised a bunch of dumb troopes in a trenchcoat so get ready for three meet-cutes and a night at the theater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes this took ENTIERLY TOO LONG TO WRITE. Anyways I love my wonder beta readers @smartlions and @limpblotter over on tumblr. Also this fic is 80% silly hcs so if you have any good ones, or just wanna chat, hit me the fuck up on my tumblr @midnigtartist ;0

University hasn’t been quite as shitty as Beau had imagined it would be.  Much like the monastery, it has allowed her to be far more herself then she’s allowed to be around her parents. Out of her house and the rigid expectations of her father, and out from under the watchful eyes of the monks Beau finds herself with almost more freedom then she knows what to do with. She goes out late and stays out even later and no stoic old man in a bathrobe wakes her at the ass crack of dawn for morning meditations. Her professors dont force her to practice not hitting a training dummy with a pole for six hours in the sun when she's five minutes late for class. She takes naps in the afternoon and her father isn't there to lecture her about what a waste of space she is. It's almost pleasant. Obviously she’s still not happy, it's still school. She's still being forced to go to school for a major she gives absolutely zeros shits about, ‘studying’ financing and sitting through two hour long lectures about how to structure internal spendings in large corporations. So, still shitty, but manageably so. It helps having a roommate she actually sort of gets along with. Honestly, Jester is partially the reason she hasn’t just up and taken off yet.

She’s had roommates before, plenty of them, more than most people she suspects. She hated them, never got along with a single one. The girls in the cushy prep school she’d been shipped off to when she was thirteen were all massive bitches. Not to say they were all straight as an arrow, stick up their asses goodie two shoes, quite the opposite really, but they were mean spirited little rich pricks that thought rebellion was sneaking a sip of booze off one of the older girls and whined that their allowances were too small. They didn’t wear pants instead of their pleated skirts or cut their hair in the bathroom at one in the morning because this was the first time they’d had the opportunity to dress and look the way they wanted. Beau has incredibly vivid memories of the girl she roomed with when she was fifteen. She was  half elf that wore her dark hair in the neat braid down her back and would hiss at Beau because she didn’t ‘sit like a lady,’ until the day Beau had broken her nose. She’d been suspended, forced to spend an uncomfortable month back home with her distant mother and seething father. When she came back, she was given a new roommate. A slight gnomish girl Beau thinks she might have had more issues with if she had spent more time in her room and less time sneaking out at night to kiss girls behind park benches.

In the monastery, she’d shared a room with a dower, tabby tabaxi woman who, in Beau’s opinion at least, took her training far too seriously. She’d dislocated Beau’s arm one night because she’d been bitching about how bullshit the monks were, told her to show some respect, as if coming here had been her decision in the first place. The next morning the head monk poked and prodded her bad shoulder until it burned and made her train into the gruelling hours of the night. When she'd gotten back to her room, Beau had kept her mouth shut and instead iced her shoulder in a simmering rage.

Jester is the first person she's shared a living space with for an extended period of time and hadn’t wanted to bust out their kneecaps. She’s not a perfect roommate by any means.  The paints she uses for her drawings stink up the room and she watches tv on her stone of far speech without headphones. Mostly cooking shows. She often wakes Beau up as she leaves for work in the mornings. She leaves stale baked goods and sweet wrappers all over the room and tries to make every night into a slumber party. Admittedly, it was cute and kinda fun the first few nights but now they’ve started to run out of good dares and honestly, sometimes you need to go one night without getting hit in the face with a pillow. Regardless, Jester is still the best roommate she’s ever had by far. Beau doesn't have any sisters, never really had any friends, especially not female friends growing up, but Jester is sort of how she imagined that might have been. Jester offers to paint her nails, shares her makeup, compliments her hair, you know, like girls do.  She always asks Beau about her day and loves to gossip about campus drama. She knows a surprising number of people, more than Beau has ever cared to know.

Jester’s real sweet and they get along just swell, but that doesnt mean Beau doesn’t still have bad days. Sometimes there are days when she can't be bothered to suffer through another lecture and so she just - doesn't. She skips class and wanders around campus, just to have something to do that isn’t being cramped up in her room or stuck in a humid lecture hall.

Beau can tell it’s going to be one of those days when she's woken at six thirty in the morning by the sound of Jester slamming the door shut behind her as shes leaves for work. It's far too early to be conscious, so she rolls over, covers her head with her pillow and promptly passed the fuck out again, not waking again until well into the afternoon the day.

Fuck it, she thinks as she unknots herself from her bedding, why bother going to class now. It’s almost one, she's not tired or drunk enough to want to go back to sleep so instead she calmbers out of bed. She twists her hair up into a top knot, exchanges her flannel sleep shorts for a pair of cyan harem pants, slips her black track jacket on over her sports bra and figures it's good enough as she shoulders her way out of the room.

Wildemount campus is a smaller campus than she had envisioned when her father had said he was sending her off to college, but it's not so small that she can’t find ways to get lost. She strolls around the side of her building, pushing through a rusted old gate she’d discovered wasn't actually locked the week before. It takes her behind her dorm, the path is rusted and cracked from obvious neglect. Wildflowers push through the cement and the tree branches are overgrown. She bats them out of her way, jogging through the tunnel of greenery over to the fence at the far end. Bracing her foot on the lowest crossbar, Beau presses her palms flat to the top of the fence and vaults her way over. Her knees buckle a bit as she hits the ground, but she simply dusts herself off and now she’s in the little plaza just behind the quad.

She cuts across, making a beeline for the maintenance buildings. A lanky elven man with dusty grey blond hair and deep wrinkles nods at her as she jogs past. She nods back, slipping between the main building and the garage, hops another fence and does a frankly unnecessary, but totally cool jump over a set of stairs, and suddenly she’s not quite sure where she is. She’s looking at the back of a building she's never seen before. A tall, sleek looking building with lots of wide glass windows, and a fence around it. She hops this fence as well, looking to put just a bit more distance between herself in her dorm, but her sneaker catches on the rail at the last second, pitching her forward faster then she antispacted. Her stomach plunges as the ground comes swinging at her. Beau turns her right shoulder towards it and hits the grass with a roll, somersaulting back to her feet off her shoulder. Better than eating absolute shit. Her shoulder still burns from the impact however.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Crouched on the lawn, Beau reaches up and starts rubbing her tender arm fiercely, trying to rub out the annoying pulse of pain between her shoulder blade and her neck.

Wherever the hell she is, its quiet, basically empty except for a human woman sitting on a nearby bench with a notebook open in her lap, a couple dragonborns, an elf walking in the opposite direction, and two halflings sitting in the grass. Probably startled by her impromptu and graceless entrance from over the fence, they both stare at her curiously. One of them is holding a guitar, which he attempts to move out of his lap as if he plans to stand and check on her. One steely look from Beau is all it takes to change his mind, picking his instrument backup and fiddling with the tuners .The door to the building she's just hopped the fence of swings open and a swell of people start to exit, filling the quiet lawn with the low murmur of chatter. She watches them go, still crouched in the grass where she landed, still kneading at her shoulder blade. As the wave of students starts to ebb, a figure at the rear of the mob catches her attention. It wasn’t hard, the woman is cresting six and a half feet tall and stands nearly a head higher then rest. And she’s absolutely jacked, _holy shit,_ Beau thinks in a small, awestruck sort of way.

Even under thick, studded leather jacket, Beau can make out the general shape and size of her shoulders and arms, and its makes Beau’s already wobbling knees weak. She tall, obviously and pale, pale like porcelain is pale, with only the slightest hue of peach to her skin. It's a stark contrast to her hair. Long and ropey, her jet black hair is twisted up and braided back in a high ponytail, which gradites to white as its falls down to the middle of her back. Under her jacket she wears a shredded white t shirt and laced up black leather pants tucked into buckle ladened boots with thick rubber soles. For a moment, Beau’s frantic lizard brain can hardly process much beyond the very important fact that this woman could probably- no- could _absolutely_ break her in half no issue, so she doesn’t acknowledge that this death metal war goddess is looking right at her until she’s taken a few steps in her direction.

“Um-, hi are you- are you alright.” she asks in a voice that moves like song and rumbles like thunder.

“B- big-” Beau’s lizard brain supplies unhelpfully. This only seems to confuse and concern her even more.

“Sorry?” shes asks and Beau shakes herself.  She rolls her sore shoulder back with a grunt and straightens out from where she's crouched on the ground.

“The fence-” Beau jabs her thumb over her shoulder. “Bigger than I thought it was, ya know. Busted up my shoulder pretty good.”

The woman blinks, then nods slowly. “That- sounds painful.”

“Pff- nah, I’m good, I do shit like this all the time.” Beau shrugs and something pops. She tries very hard to hid her grimace under a tight lipped smirk.

The woman nods slowly. “Okay then.”

Beau can make out the different colors of her eyes, one a pale lavender, the other sky blue. She counts four piercings in her face, two in her left eyebrow, one through her septem and one through her lower lip, with still more iron hoops pierced through her ears. A long, deafening silence stretches between them. The woman drops her stoic gaze past Beaus right shoulder and shifts her weight to her other hip.

“Well I -” she begins.

“Beau!” Beau interrupts, jabbing her hand out into the space between them. Her shoulders are high and tight, she wills them to relax. “I’m Beau.” she says, gentler this time.

The other woman meets her halfway, shaking her hand in a firm, somewhat practiced manner. “Yasha” she offers, giving Beau’s hand a final squeeze before retreating.

“Quite the handshake you’ve got there, Yasha.” Beau says, testing the name on her tongue.

Yasha smiles, the smallest twitch in the corner of her lip, but her eyes go soft. “Well you know, I’m pretty strong.”

“I bet.” Beau’s treacherous mouth says, unbidden. “You lift?”

“A bit.” Yasha says. The haughty turn of her eyebrows says she lifts a lot.

“Cool, cool” Beau says.. “That’s- yeah that’s cool, cool shit. You ahh- so you take classes here?” she nods over at the build she has watched Yasha stroll out of moments ago.

“Yes, a few.” Yasha says. “Do you too? I’m sorry but I- I don't’ think I’ve seen you around before.”

Beau shakes her head. “Nah, I have class over in the Westal Hall about this time actually.”

“That’s - over on the other side of campus.” Yasha says.

She shrugs again, stucking in a sharp, but subtle breath at the jolt of pain. “Got a little lost, I guess.”

Yasha merely nods. “You must be new then.”

“Yeah” she says meekly. “This is uhhh- this is my first year here actually.” Stop talking, she chides herself. Stop looking so dumb in front of the super hot goth chick.

“Well, if you just walk this way,” Yasha gestures towards a path to her right that wineds between to buildings, “And just go all the way down until the path splits and take a right you should be near the Tri Spire. Westal hall is just a little ways past that.”

“Right” Beau nods. “Yeah, right- cool thanks.”

“I could show you if you’d like.” Yasha says in a clear, all business sort of way. “The signs here can be a little confusing, you know, my friend used to get lost all the time. I think he still does, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Beau says, a little too quickly. She winces at her own desperation but soldiers on regardless. “I mean, yeah, if you don’t mind that would cool. I’m uh kinda shit with directions, if I’m being honest.”

Yasha shrugs. “It’s fine, I’m headed that direction anyway and, you know, I’m used to being a guide.”

“Cool cool cool.” Beau bobs her head along with her words. “Yeah cool sounds good, uuuuuh lead the way a guess.”

And so Yasha does, Beau following half a step behind her massive stride. They don’t talk much as they walk, but Beau commits the path to memory best she can, in case she needs to get ‘accidently’ lost again some time in the future.

  


Out of all his class, Caleb thinks his Fundamentals of Intermediate Level Transmutation is quickly becoming his favorite, slowly but steadily overtaking Alkaline Magicks as the days progress into weeks. Firstly, he very much enjoys the content of the class. Transmutation has proven itself to be a far more palatable school of magic then evocation. Instead of harnessing raw power and brutally bending it to his will, transmutation is the cohesion of preexisting elements. Shaping the matter that surrounds him into something more helpful. It's a more precise school of magic, more exact. It requires concentration and finesse, rather than pure force, and Caleb finds that this suits him much better. Evocation is far more of a risk when things go awry, and Caleb is not much of a fan of risks, even if he still twists a flame between his fingers when he's deep in thought. No, Caleb feels far more in control of the magic when he is turning copper to gold then he would if he were summoning lightning to his fingertips.

Secondly, he likes his textbook a great deal. It’s written in a way that allows one to teach themselves the information. A quality Caleb adores and wishes more books would try to replicate. He’s already read the whole thing cover to cover, has memorized a sizable portion of it too, but he still goes back and brushes up on the assigned chapters before lectures. Thirdly, he quite likes his professor. A silver dragonborn woman with sharp blue eyes and a steady voice. He likes that she lectures straight through and hardly ever has them work in pairs, assigning most practical work to be done on their own time, which most of the class grumbles about, but he enjoys. He’s not a fan of the painfully awkward small talk that comes with paired assignments, if his strained interactions with his Alchemy lab partner are anything to show. He works much faster when he doesn't have to explain his process to another person anyways. She also hasn’t made a stink about Frumpkin joining him for lecture. She's merely taken his note for the office of accommodations, nodded, and made no further comments, or even really acknowledged the bengel curled around his shoulders like a scarf, for which he is grateful.

He only wishes that his fellow academics would do the same. Ever since he’s started bringing Frumpkin to lectures, people have been showering his poor cat, and by extension, him as well, with far more attention then Caleb is even remotely comfortable with. It’s mostly the female students who, like Jester, fawn and preen over his cat with squeals and kisses, though a few men stop to scratch Frumpkin between the ears and coo over what a good cat he is. This is not what he had intended for, quite the opposite really. Instead of settling his nerves, having Frumpkin with him has caused him to become the center of attention, which makes his hands shake and the  backs of his knees sweat. He’s tried asking people to stop but the words get stuck in his throat and often he can't be heard over the clamour of how ‘absolutely adorable” Frumpkin is. So he's started keeping Frumpkin tucked under his coat or in his lap under the desk during lecture. Out of sight out of mind until the initial excitement of there being a cat in the classroom has worn off. And the days drag on more or less the same as the always do.

He gets to class at eleven forty five on Thursday, Frumpkin, nestled in against his neck, and settles in to his seat in the back of the room. Caleb has hardly reached his chair when the girl who walked in behind him reaches over to scratch his cat behind the ears.

“Hi there Frumpy.” the human woman coos with a familiarity she has not earned. Caleb’s not sure she’s ever even told him her name and yet everytime she walks past them she digs her fingers into Frumpkin’s fur. “How handsome you look today. “

Caleb flinches back and the girl continues on her way to her seat in the second row, as if there was nothing unacceptable about her behaviour. Just because there’s cat in the classroom doesn’t mean it is the class’ cat.

Sighing heavily, he carefully detaches Frumpkin from his shoulders and instead places him in his lap. The cat mewls indignantly at him from the cage of his arms.

“I know, Schnucki.” He tells him in a soft voice. “I know that you like it up there but we also like when people do not try and pet you unsolicited, ja?”

Frumpkin butts his head against Caleb’s chest, swats his tail against his lap, but ultimately settled for the far less comfortable position of crammed between Caleb and the table.

“Hopefully not for too much longer.” he says. He strokes and hand over his back in soothing manner and Frumpkin loses a low, rumbling purr.

Once that’s been settled, Caleb pulls his notebook from his bag and begins the tedious processes of deciphering his own illegible shorthand. A keen memory, while useful for memorizing maps or direct passages from a text, or determining the time of day, only gives him a slight edge when it comes to processing auditory information. Given a few hours and a quiet room, Caleb can memorize an entire novel’s worth of information and recite it back with perfect accuracy. He can do that, but it is a slow process that requires his total concentration. The task of hearing and processing an hour’s worth of lecture information orally is an entirely different beast, though if he really tried he could probably get fifty percent of it verbatim. So he takes notes, skips the processing part entirely and just lets the words flow from his ears to his hand then out onto the page so that he can go back an commit them to memory later. The only downside of this strategy is that in his haste to capture every word, his notes become unreadable. His mind moves faster than his hand and the result is lecture notes that look as though they’ve been scribbled down by a child. There are parts where he’s switched from common to Zemnian because the words sometimes come faster in another language. So he has to take fifteen minutes or so to go through and decipher his own atrocious handwriting. By the end the margins are so full up with his translations that the page somehow looks worse then when he started. But it's his system, and he manages.

He’s scratching at a particularly long paragraph, trying to come up with the most accurate translation from elvish to common when a flash of color catches in the corner of his eye.

“Hey there friend, this seat taken?” Caleb glances up in the direction of the voice.

It’s the lavender tiefling with the boorbles in his horns that made Nott’s palms itch. The same lavender tiefling with the boorbles in his horns who shared a desk with Yasha, and who Caleb had seen leading a small group in morning yoga out on the quad. He’s  tall and lean, with large gray-purple horns that curl around his ears and eerie, pupiless crimson eyes. Were this not all jarring enough, his outfit is certainly perplexing. A silky, matte patterned vest in a royal purple, hanging open off his shoulders. Underneath is a mesh top that does absolutely nothing to cover him. Chest bared rather proudly, his thumbs  are hooked into the belt loops of his jeans; vivid maroon with brightly colored embroidered up the long legs. He’s ladened to the tips of every finger with tingling jewelry. He’s also staring at Caleb expectantly, a polite little smile stretched across his lips, just a hint of fang poking through.

“Ja, uh, no, that seat is not taken,” Cable says, and he makes a jerky little ‘go ahead’ motion towards the seat on his right and nods stiffly.

The tiefling grins wider. “Excellent.” He plops himself down in the chair. He wastes no time getting situated, tucking one long leg under the other, propping his foot up on the seat, resting his chin to his knee.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he says, extending his hand towards Caleb. “ Molly to my friends”

On the back of his offered hand is a brightly colored tattoo of a lunging snake with a ruby red eye. Caleb takes it as if the snake might strike at him, giving one firm shake before quickly retreating.

“Caleb- Widogast.” he says.

“Caleb Widogast.” Mollymauk parrots back. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb- right, got it.” He nods, lips never shifting from their lopsided smirk. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure?”

“We have not been formal introduced.” Caleb says. “But I have seen you around, you are -uuh- hard to miss.”

“Good to know.” Mollymauk says. He winks and rests his chin back to his knee.

Caleb shifts in his seat under the tiefling’s crimson gaze and Frumpkin makes a murmur of displeasure at him.

“Oh-!” Mollymauk makes a surprised little noise, craning his neck to get a better look at the bengel in Caleb’s lap. “You’ve got a cat with you? That’s fascinating. Why do you have a cat with you, I didn’t think they were allowed in the dorms.”

“Yes, well, I would imagine they are not, but I do not live on campus so-” Caleb says in a rush. “But ahh- you know, I have permission, from the accommodations office, I am allowed to have him with me in lectures so-”

Mollymauk nods solemnly, expression schooled into something mock serious. “So he’s on the clock then.”

“J-ja” Caleb breathes. “Yes, he is uhh- a good cat.”

“A very good cat I bet.” Mollymauk says, crossing his legs now. “Very busy doing important work. Isn’t that right darling? I’m sure you’re working very hard to help you friend here.” he croons at Frumpkin, but makes no moves to touch him. Mollymauk keeps his ring ladened fingers steepled in his lap.

“Would you- ah would you like to see him?” Caleb asks. It's a tactical request, he assures himself, carding his fingers through Frumpkin’s fur. A non-threatening topic of conversation that might even district Mollymauk enough to excuse Caleb from this painful small talk. Besides, Mollymauk has not been rude or made any unwanted advancements on him or his cat. Much like with Jester, Caleb supposes he can humor this tiefling as well.

Mollymauk lifts his head, cocks it to the right curiously. “You’re sure? I’d hate the distract a professional at work.”

Caleb almost- almost--smiles at that. Mollymauk takes Frumpkins presence almost too seriously and it’s rather endearing. He catches himself however, tugging at the stubble on his chin.  “Eeeeh- Ja, I think he has earned a break.”

Mollymauk shrugs. “Well if it’s alright with the boss,” and he unfolds his legs, watching Caleb expectantly.

Caleb tucks his hands under Frumpkin despite his protests and sets him down gently in Mollymauk’s lap. Immediately the cat bumps his head into the tieflings stomach and Mollymauk makes a wounded noise, bringing a taloned hand up to scratch behind his ears.

“Oh, he’s just darling,” he says. His accent is thick with adoration. “Anywhere in particular he likes to be pet?”

“Ugh, right on the side of his neck here.” Caleb mocks a scratching motion at his own throat. Mollymauk shifts his hand lower to stroke just benight Frumpkin’s jaw. “ Right there, ja.”

The effect is almost immediate. Frumpkin presses himself up into Mollymauk hand and begins purring, a loud low rumble that grabs the attention of two halfling girls as they pass. They gaze on wide wide, watery eyes, fingers pressing their squeals of delight back down their throats but they don’t approach. Instead they eye Mollymauk, who’s scratching Frumpkin’s ginger fur with a look of pure wonderment, and continue to their seats. Apparently they don’t know what to make of the big purple demon who’s popped up unexpectedly in their transmutation class. It’s a relief to Caleb, who had not been looking to make this an open invitation for many strange hands to poke and prod at his cat.

Caleb uses the lull in conversation that Frumpkin has created to assess Mollymauk, because there is a lot there that needs to be cataloged. Aside from the immediate assault of his bright lavender skin and sharp scarlet eyes and his glittering horns and his mismatched clothes, the tiefling is a mosaic of color and pattern. The snake on his hand is not the only tattoo that he sports. The snake winds its way up his arm, joining a cluster of roses and little blue flowers that decorate his forearm and climb up his shoulder. Across his neck and creeping up the side of his face is a splash of vibrant peacock feathers in different shades of blue. Just peeking out from under his vest on the other shoulder is a wash of dark blues that mimic the midnight sky, Caleb spies a sliver of the silver moon curling high on the tieflings cordy bicep. His chest is a tapestry of criss crossing, lacy silver scars. They span the length of his torso, starting at the jugular and disappearing beneath the waist of his pants. His ears are pointed, his fingers long and taloned, except for the first two on his right hand, those look like they’ve been filed down to bunt, rounded edges. Caleb has not met many tiefling in his life. Including Jester, and now Mollymauk, he’s perhaps seen a handful, and spoken to even fewer. His village was small and deep in the heart of the empire. It was rare to see anyone more colorful than a gnome, not many travelers passes through his poor town when Rexxumturm was only a days ride to the east. Still, he thinks that Mollymauk must be the strangest, most overbearingly colorful individual he’s ever seen, a sunrise given physical form. And now he is speaking.

Caleb snaps to attention. “ _Was_?” he asks.

The corners of Mollymauk’s  eyes crinkle delightedly. “Your accent is very interesting,  forgot to mention it earlier. You’re not from round here then?”

“Zeminian,” Caleb elaborates. “Uhh- you know where Zemini Fields is?”

Mollymauk shakes his head, grinning thoughtfully. “Haven’t the faintest idea.”

“It is nothing impressive.” Caleb shrugs, rubs a hand across his stubble. “A lot of, you know, dirt farming, hard labor, the people there are very poor. But ah- you were asking me something?”

Mollymauk’s  brows pull tight. “Was I?” he presses his fang into his lower lip and worries it a minute in way that makes Caleb cringe, then shrugs. “Can’t remember it.”

A lapse of silences falls between them. Caleb is starting to wish that he hadn’t handed Frumpkin over to Mollymauk because now he’s trapped in this engagement until lecture starts and he can reasonably ask for his cat back. He pulls at his chin, tongue tied against the inside of his jaw. Eventually the awkwardness of the stiff silence is to much for him.

“So-! You are eh- a transmutation major as well?” he asks, whipping sweating palms over his jeans.

Mollymauk, who had been gently stroking Frumpkin and humming to himself, looks up.

“Oh!” he glances around the room like this is the first time he’s taking it in. His solid eyes scan the walls, the seats, the other people, the ceiling, a crooked, open mouthed  smile twisting the corner of his lip. “Is that what this is?”

Caleb’s shoulders sag. “You- are in this class, yes?”

“No,” Mollymauk says, now craning his neck to look at Caleb’s notebook. “Gods, no. I’m a theater major, just got a bit lost.”

He stared slack jawed at Mollymauk. “You- got lost?”

“Mmmmmmm,” the teifling nods. “Building changed from last year. Wasn’t paying attention, got a little lost and walked to the old one.”  He shrugs. “Figured this room seemed interesting enough, and it looks like I was right!” He scratches Frumpkin between the ears.

“You make it a habit of wandering into strange places?” Caleb asks.

“More fun that way, I’ve found.” Mollymauk says, then he giggles, high and tittering. “Should probably get going though, not sure how many more absences my grade can take.”

Mimicking Caleb’s motions from earlier, he scoops Frumpkin up in his arms and hands him back to the wizard, far less gently then he ought to, and Frumpkin digs his claws into Caleb’s jeans.

“It was very nice to meet the both of you,”  he says. Bending at the waist with a flourish, Mollymauk rises from his seat, offering a final wave as he disappears out the door, trailed by the eyes of the class.

Caleb watches him go, soothing Frumpkin with two fingers rubbing slowly behind his ear.

“We have to stop talking to the people here.” he tell his cat. “They are ehrr- a circus sideshow.”

  


“Ooooh Molly! That looks so cool!” Jester says. Leaning her cheek onto Molly’s sharp shoulder, she waggles a charcoal blackened finger at Molly’s sketchbook. She draws a big circle through the air, highlighting the center of what he’d been working on. “You did the flowers, like super good.”

Jester had been absolutely delighted when she’d discovered that Molly was in her Art Studio class. University hasn’t been everything she’d imagined it’d would be. Molly isn’t her super cool BFF/roommate who goes shopping with her and takes the same classes as her and generally spends all her time with, but they get along very well. He’d slipped into class just as it was starting the first day, spotted her at her window side table and they’d immediately latched on to one another. He's made the class infinitely more entertaining with his loud humming and dramatic sweeping motions when he sketches. They’ve been practically inseparable, two brightly dressed tiefling, doodling in each others notebooks and chattering to each other in infernal. Needless to say, the rest of the class tends to give them a wide berth. Jester doesn’t care and Molly doesn’t seem to mind. Whenever other people give them pointed looks two take turns hissing compliments at them like: “ _you’re hair is a very pretty color’_ and “ _that’s a really good shirt, where did you get it?_ ” and “ _you have lovely teeth, if only you’d smile a bit more and glower at me bit less_.”  No one ever understands them, which is hilarious. Usually people will jump and go back to their work silently. Jester really likes hanging out with Molly, he’s a lot of fun.

Today, they’re continuing work on their charcoal still lifes. The professor has piled an assortment of randoms odds and ends up on a table in the middle of the room and instructed them to draw any section of the piece they’d like. Jester chose to draw the whole thing, making the spires of stuff into a little bustling city, complete with smoke stacks curling out of bottle towers and ants marching in and out of their little fruit homes.  She’s just finished the hollowed out apple, now all that's left is for a lucky little ant family to move in. It looks really good so far.

Molly’s looks really good too. He’s pulled out a part at the bottom on the structure where the professor has stuffed a bunch of dried out old flowers into a teapot. There are a couple of chipped teacups around it to, and some candles and the corner of a wooden crate. His flowers do look really pretty, Jester doesn’t have the patches to sketch out all those individual petals but Molly has somehow managed to capture all the delicate folds in the brittle leaves. His kettle is a little lopsided, but overall it looks quite nice, his angles are sharp, practiced and clean.

Molly sets the  nub of what's left of his charcoal stick down on his easel and stretches out his long fingers. The charcoal smudged across them turns his pale lilac skin a muddied dark purple, blackening completely at the tips.

“Thank you dear.” He says. Molly draps an arm around her shoulder, mindful not to drag his dirty fingers across her shirt. “How’s city planning coming along?”

“Really good,” Jester says with a decisive  nod. She points to the vaguely milk carton shaped part of her drawing. “I even made a little school house so that all the kids can go learn and makes lots of friends.”

“Education is important.” Molly says. He point out a cluster of roughly blocked in grapes behind on her fruit houses. “You could make these into a waterfall, give your devoted citizens a breathtaking city park.”

She nods frantically, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh my gosh, yes, that would be sooo cute!” She slips out from under Molly’s arm and throws down a couple of smudged lines that make the grapes look less like grapes and more like wet stones under a waterfall.

Jester gives a sharp nod of approval, wiping her hands off on the charcoal stained scrap of fabric hanging from her belt, and joins Molly and the rest of the class in packing up her supplies. Lids are screwed back on bottles of ink and charcoal sticks are carefully folded up in cloth and stowed away in bags. She slips her and Molly’s big sketchbooks into her equally big tote bag and then start deconstructing their easels.

“ _Any exciting lunch plans_?” Molly asks. They move over to the sinks, a small group parting for them as Molly hisses this out his creepy scary infernal voice.

Jester twists the faucet on. “ _Going to go eat with Beau  probably, if she isn’t moping around the room again. And probably that stinky guy, probably._ ” she says.

“The socially repressed dumpster man?” Molly asks, quoting Jester verbatim.

“Yuuuuuup,” Jester sings. “He was just sitting there at a table all by himself and it just looked so sad you know? So I told him that he can come and have lunch with me and Beau whenever he wants.”

“After you forced yourself on him, I’m sure.” Molly says. It's more teasing then it is a chiding remark.

“Well yeah.” Jester replies. “He kept ignoring me when I was calling his name over and over again, so I had to like, basically sit right next to him to get his attention.” She scraped the underside of her nails, trying to rid herself of the charcoal caked underneath.  
“Perphas your stinky friend isn’t looking for company.” Molly says and Jester rolls her eyes.  
“Nobody likes to eat alone,” she says, tone clipped. Eating alone is boring and sad.

She's done it enough times that she considers herself an expert on the matter. Muffled voices from the other room are not a substitution for an actual conversation with a good friend over a meal. Her mother and her didn't eat together often, her mother being far to busy entertaining her clients over their meals, or elsewhere performing. On lonely nights, Jester would crack her window open just enough that the enchanting sound of her mom’s voice would drift up into her room. She would close her eyes and wonder what it would be like to see her up on the stage, with all her jewelry and her pretty dress glittering in the firelight. On less lonely days, when the Traveler visited her, they would make dinner into a tea party. She would put on her prettiest dress with lots of ribbons and lace and she would pretend to be a disgusted noble woman having a very important dinner with the king. Since she's started rooming with Beau, she makes it a point to drag her out to at least one meal a day.

Molly hums to show that he’s still listening, even as he intently scrubs his fingers, trying to work the charcoal out of his culitcals, but it holds firm. He lets out a low, frustrated growl and must decide that that’s as good as his hands are going to get, the tips of his fingers still a dull lavender.

“He shows up sometimes,” Jester continues, grabbing a fistfull of paper towels. She passes some off to Molly. “He says he has lots of work to do but I think he just likes to avoid us sometimes. I think he hides in the library, he seems like the type of person who would hide in a library.”

“Well, for his and the library's sake, I hope he shows today, before you get any ideas of hunting him down.” Molly says, disposing of the now wet paper towels in the wastebasket.

Jester flashes her little fangs in a sweet grin. “I would never do something like that.” Together they make their way out of the class. “Do you want to come with, Molly? To lunch I mean. But like, we could totally go fuck up the library after if you want.”

Molly laughs, holding the door open for her as they exit their building into the sunshine of the afternoon. “If only I could, however I-” he drumbs his fingers on the doorframe “Have plans”.

Jester pouts. “You always have plans” she says. “You’re so mysterious. Tell me all your secrets, Molly.”

Molly attempts to placate her with a pat between her short horns. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, dear, it’s just lunch at a friend’s house. Certainly nothing mysterious about that.” He flashes her a smug grin, complete with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows and moves past her out of the building.

Jester rushes to catch up with him. “If it’s not a secret, then you should invite me over some time too,” she says.

“Would you like me to ask her?” Molly asks.

“Maaaaybe,” Jester replies and Molly laughs.

“I’m sure Yasha wouldn’t mind setting up another place. Just probably not today but you know I’m definitely going to bring it up. I’ve been trying to get her to meet new people for ages now.” he says.

“Well,” Jester says, smoothing down the front of her shirt. “I am really good at making friends, so we will definitely get along really well.”

“Oh, I have no doubt ‘bout that one, dear,” Molly says with a grin. Then he pauses. He smile falters, brows pinching together as he pats down the pockets of shimmering emerald harem pants. “Shite,” he mumbles, digging his hands into his bag and coming up empty.

Jester listes her head to the right. “What is it? Did you forget your Stone in class? Cause we can totally go back and get it.” she says

“It’s not that.” Molly grunts out, smoothing his hands down his thighs. “ Remember how I was telling you about how the fantasy Lush sent me the wrong matte eyeshadow palette the other day ‘n thought you might like it? I was planning on bring it today but-” he checks his pockets once more a huff. “-I forgot it.”

Jester rolls her eyes. “It’s not like it’s a big deal Molly, I don’t mind.”

Molly hums, pressing his teeth gently behind the little silver stud in his tounge in that way he does when he’s thinking very hard. “Why don’t we just stop by my room real quick, I‘m bound to forget again if I wait. If you don’t mind a little detour, that is.”

“Molly,” Jester claps a hand down on his bicep. “I would absolutely love to see your room.”

“Excellent!” Molly swoops down upon her with a daring grin, linking their arms. “This way then, my good lady!” He takes off in a skip, dragging a cackling Jester behind him as she struggles to match his bouncing pace.

The pair go skipping down the sidewalk,  clearing a path as startled padesteriens scatter out of the way of the little blue tiefling and her lanky lavender companion. They round the quad and make their way over the sloping bridge that spans the babbling spring between the two big acrane sciences buildings. Once they pass the admissions building and move into the residential block, Molly slows their manic galloping to a pleasant trot, breathless laughter on his lips.

The dorms in Wildemout are divided up into three general buildings and one fancy building, designated for the older residential students. It's at the far end of the residential block, separated from the other buildings with fences and trees. The layout, from what Jester has heard, is like many duplexes next to and on top of eachother, with their own plots of grass and reserved parking, where the general buildings are styled like you would expect a traditional dorm building to be. The three general buildings surround a shared plot of grass, affectionately dubbed “The Tri Spires” because the dorms are tall and hexagonal, giving them the appearance of three towers looming over the park. It's usually just as populated as the quad itself, with students laid out in the grass, trying to enjoy the last of summer’s heat before the chill of harvest season starts so set in, with books in laps, or else cuddled up on blankets with friends or significant others. The sight makes Jester’s heart all fuzzy and soft.

“Which building is yours Molly?” she asks. She untangles their arms and instead clasps on tight to his hand, swinging wildly between them.

Molly lets his arm go limp so that it’s not pulled from its socket. “Good ol’ leaky Tap Hall,” he says.

“Oh My Gosh, really?!” Jester gaps, pressing a hand dramatically over her mouth. “Me too! Ohmygosh, how have we like,  not run into each other at aaaaall yet, I moved in like a month ago?!”

Molly shrugs, pulling his key out of his pocket as they reach the front door, and lets them both into the building. “I’m up on the fourth floor, bit of a hike for a visit.”

Jester nods, following Molly up - up the staircase to the first landing. “That makes sense I guess, I mean I’m on this floor and I probably wouldn’t want to walk up a bunch more steps if I could like, just avoid doing that and getting like, all sweaty and stuff.”  Up another flight of steps they go. Jester blows her bangs back out of her eyes. “You should come visit me though, Molly! We could work on our portfolios in my room. That’s where I keep my really expensive paints that my mom sends me.”

“Would your unpleasant roommate be there?” Molly asks.

She rolls her head back and forth in a thoughtful manner. “I mean like, she would probably be there at least some of the time, probably.”

“Then I think I might take a pass on your offer, dear.”

They climb the last set of the stairs and reach the fourth floor landing reasonably out of breath. The floor is fairly busy, a few people are out loitering in the hallway, conversation drifts out of open doors. Molly leads her down the hall and around the far corner, greeting random people as he picks his way through the crowd with a jovial wave. She knows they've reached Molly’s room because he stops outside a door with white board. In large looping hot pink marker “Mollymauk Tealeaf and Fjord ‘The Seaman’ Tuff” is scrawled out, next to Molly’s name is a caricature of a grinning tiefling and next to ‘Fjord’ is a anchor. Molly signals Jester to pause and twist the doorknob, which gives. He cracks the door open a few inches.

“Fjord! You’d better be decent in there because I’ve brought company!” He bellows in, hand cupped around his mouth. Molly doesn’t even wait a full beat before he throws the door wide and drags Jester in by the wrist.

Molly’s room is basically what she was expecting, it's colorful and loud and looks incredibly lived in. It smells really  nice too, warm like spicy tea and sweet like candied fruits with an undertone of something earthy she can’t quite place, but still feels very Molly. Amidst the delightful explosion of pattern and gold is a cube of the room that’s be left untouched by Molly’s influence. The walls are mostly bare aside from a calendar, a few posters for sports teams, and an ornamental silver sword that hangs, in Jester’s opinion, rather precariously over the neatly made bed. Simple navy curtains match the simple navy duvet that's tucked tightly under the corners of the mattress of a bed that looks so pristine that she thinks it must never have been slept in. there's an alarm clock on the windowsill, an empty waste paper basket at the foot of the bed, and a desk pressed up against the wall between the door and the bedframe. Sat that this desk, with a small mountain of books spread out in front of him, is a half orc, who turns to face them with furrowed brows as they come barging into the space.

“Fjord, dear, this is Jester.” Molly says, gesturing to her vaguely as he saunters over to his desk-made-vanity and starts rifling through his shit. “Jester, my roommate Fjord.”

Fjord shoots Molly’s back a decidedly irritated look before he pushes his chair out with a sigh and stands. He’s tall, about as tall as Molly , if not a few inches taller, but still shorter, she thinks, then the other half orcs she's met, if she was to stand them back to back. He’s barrel chested and broad in the shoulders, his physique  speaks to a life of manual labor and a diet of rich foods and a lot of ale. Round but strong. His jaw is sharp with a faded scar on the right side and the beginnings of stubble starting to creep across his dark green skin. His dark hair is buzzed short on the sides while it looks like he's started to let the top grow out. He’s very handsome. Where Molly is prince-like, flowing lines and lean hips and soft curls and encrusted in jewels, Fjord makes her think of the common man. Of stories of noble young ladies who elope with the blacksmith or stable hands that gain that princesses affection and are knighted. Reminds her of daring soldiers who save damsels from vicious pirates. Fjord looks like he could probably kick a pirate's butt, even if he’s a bit smaller in stature than most other half orcs Jester has met.

“Fjord.” Fjord says, offering a large, square hand to her. “Pleasure to met ya.”

Jester takes his hand in both of her’s and squeezes. “I’m Jester.” she says. “I just have to say, like, you are super duper handsome. Like there are a lot of really attractive people at this school but you are like- really handsome.”

“I-” Fjord glances over at Molly, then back at her, mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “I- thank you. That’s uh- that’s a real sweet thing of you to say.”

Jester let’s his hand drop. “I mean, its true. You’ve got like- a stupid good looking face.”

“Now, Jester-” Molly says, absently. He still upturning the contents of his desk. “Don’t go on antagonizing the virgin.” With a huff and agitated flick of his tail, Molly slams the drawer he was digging in shut and instead moves over to his bed.

Fjord rolls his eyes. “Screw you, Molly.”

“What? You wear dress pants and cowboy boots. The fuck you expect me to think?” Molly says.

Jester cackles, muffling the sound in  her fist. Fjord scratches the back of his neck, looking rather sheepish.

“Sorry about him.” he says.

Jester just shakes her head and smiles. “Oh, I don’t mind. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, Fjord.” She pats his arm reasurringly. Molly lets out a horrible cackle, Fjord pales, then his cheeks stain a dark green. He coughs into his fist.

“So- uhh- so how do you and, uh, Molly here know each other?” Fjord asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Oh you know-” Jester begins. She saunters over to Fjord’s bed and jumps up onto it, legs neatly crossed. “We take studio art together. He’s like, basically one of my best friends since the semester started.  I’m very single.” she adds pointedly.

“Oh, I wasn’t implying that y'all were-” he gestures between Molly and Jester. “-apologize if it came off like I was assumin’.”

It's almost as if Fjord doesn’t quite  know what to do with himself but is trying very hard to not let that faze him.  He’s very much a fish out of water making a valiant effort to breathe air. Jester figures that living with Molly would have that sort of effect on someone.

“Don’t worry, it didn’t come off that way to me at all.” Jesters says. She winks at Fjord, who digs his hands into his pockets.

“Ah! Found the fucker!” Molly says. They both turn to face him. He’s standing in a pile of old quilts and second hand throw pillows with a compact held triumphantly over his head, tail lashing out excitedly behind him. Molly prances over to  Jester and presents the compact to her with a flourish.

“Here you are, dear. Think these colors with compliment your skin tone far better then mine.” He says, and he thrusts the eyeshadow pallet into her hands.

Jester jumps up for the bed and pecks Molly on his lavender cheek. “Molly you’re the best.”

“I do try.” he says with a wink that makes her giggle. “Anyway, best be off, don’t want to keep Yasha waiting.” He ruffles Jester’s hair. “I’ll see you later, dear.”

He claps Fjord on the shoulder, making his way towards the door. “See you later, friend.” and with that, Mollymauk slips out into the hallway, clicking the door shut behind him. And leaving Jester and Fjord very much alone.

This of course, is no problem for Jester, she likes Molly’s handsome and not at all  stinky roommate. He seems really nice, if not a little bit formal, but she's sure that will change once they get to know each other a little bit better.  Fjord on the other hand, seems to be on the awkward side of uncomfortable. Probably because he’s just been left alone with a very pretty stranger, Jester reasons.

“So-” he starts, but Jester interjects before he can finish.

“Would you like to come to lunch with me, Fjord?” She asks. Fjord says nothing, so she pushes on. “I mean like, some friends and I are going to get lunch together, and I’m wondering if you would like, want to come eat with us, possibly.”

Fjord lets out a long, deep sigh and there’s a beat of quiet before the corners of his mouth twitch up into a grin. “That’s a mighty kind offer Jester. Yeah, I’d love to have lunch with y’all.”

“Great!” Jester says,  bouncing on the balls of her feet again. She grabs Fjord around the wrist and starts pulling him to the door. “I’m sure you’re going to like them a lot. Beau is really grumpy, but she’s like, really really smart and nice and stuff. I’m sure you'll like her. And -oh! Caleb is stinky but he’s very nice too, and he likes to read. Though, he may not be there today. He doesn't’ come everyday, but he does have the sweetest little kitty in the whole world. His name is Frumpkin. Do you like cats Fjord?”

  


Caleb had concluded that, regardless of invitation or not, there was no reason for him to go and have lunch with Jester and Beau on a regular basis. It’s a waste of his time really, and the girls are loud, and brash, and distracting. He gets far more work done during his hour and a half long break over lunch when he’s tucked away at a table in the back of the library, surrounded by silence and the stale smell of old books. The cafeteria is noisy and too bright. He can hardly think when he’s in there, surrounded by so many people and so much noise, let alone study his notes for his Alkaline Magicks class, and so there’s no point in him going there. Invitation or not.

So he finds himself rather frustrated with his line of thinking, or perhaps lack thereof, that he has been spending more time in the cafeteria than is strictly necessary. He doesn’t even go there out of basic necessity anymore. The only reason he had been in there that first day Jester had extended her invitation was because he hadn’t eaten the night before, and the lightheadedness was making it hard to focus on spell transcription.  But since Jester had offered, well, more like pressured Caleb reasons, him to join her and her roommate for lunch, he’s hidden himself away in the library less and less. There really is no reason for the change, he doesn’t even buy lunch everyday. The only relevant factor, it seems, is that he actually doesn't mind having lunch with Jester and Beau. At least, not on a semi-irregular basis anyways.

As such, Caleb finds himself sat at a table he hesitates to call ‘their’ table, by the window at eleven forty on a overcast friday afternoon. Jester is slathering her blueberry bagel with her fifth packet of cream cheese while Beau, burger and fries nearly abandoned, watches her with curiosity layered over a look of absolute disgust.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat something that isn’t gluten or dairy,” she says.

Jester rolls her eyes. “It's a whole wheat bagel Beau, it’s extra healthy.”

“Yeah, but like I’ve never seen you eat a vegetable. “ Beau says, reaching over for the ketchup. She squirts an unacceptably large glob of it onto her plate, as if the bastardized tomato paste helps prove her point. “I’m afraid you’re gonna get jaundice or something. Or scurvy.”

“It has fruit in it Beau.” Jester says, shaking her bagel at the other woman. Some of the excess cream cheese hits the table with a plop, causing Caleb to wince.

He pulls the textbook he’s been trying fruitlessly to read since Jester started pulling out little cream cheese cups closer to his chest. “Blueberries don’t prevent scurvy. Or jaundice,” he says.

To this Jester merely shrugs, wiping the stray glob of cream cheese off the table with a finger, which she pops into her mouth. Caleb winces again. He doesn’t understand why his messy, ludicrous brain crave the companionship of these weirdos, and yet here he is. He decided that is best to go back to pretended to read his book

The grating squeal of metal chair legs on cheap tile signal Jester’s approach as the little blue tiefling scoots directly into Caleb’s personal space. He keeps his eyes resolutely on the page in front of him, actually tries to focus on the words this time, instead of just staring at them blankly.

‘ _The incantation allows that wielder to animate-”_

“Caleb” Jester says, inching steadily closer.

“ _\- a number of inanimate, no magical objects, depending on the size and number of objects the caster is attempting to manipulate.-”_

“What are you reading Caleb?” she asks, voice low and wobbling.

Caleb feels the odd chill of her infernal blood though his coat. He scoots his own seat two inches away from her. “Things.” he says, curtly.

“ _Larger objects require a greater amount of focus to animate, and as such-”_

Jester scoots two inches towards him. “What type of things?”

“Important- magic things.” he tells her.

“Can I see your book Caleb?” she asks, so sweetly. Her fingers walk casually across the table top.

He snatchs the book out of her reach before she can grab it. “Nein- you may not see my textbook Jester.” he says. He shoots her a warning look.

The little tiefling pouts. “Why not?”

“Because I have seen how you treat your textbooks, and I do not want scribbles in the margins.” he says, shutting the book with a snap.

Jester sticks her tounge out at him “You’re no fun Caleb.” she says and Caleb rolls his eyes.

“Ja well, guilty as charged I suppose.” he mutters under his  breath.

With his book pressed protectively under his elbow, Caleb reaches over for his untouched salad. He watches Jester cautiously out of the corner of his eye while he eats, ready to fend off any wandering fingers with his fork but it seems Jester has lost interest. Instead she’s amusing herself by gouging her cream cheese knife into the tabletop. Better the table then his very expensive book, he thinks dully.

Now that the Jester is distracted and the immediate threat of her vandalizing an invaluable source of knowledge is gone, for the time being at least, Caleb slips the book into his bag and replaces it with his notebook instead. If he can’t read, he might as well try to transcribe his notes into something legible with his free time. He hardly gets a page in before he feels tug at the leg of his pants.

“Jester, please.” he says without turning to look at her. “I am trying to work.”

“I didn’t even touch you.” she says

Caleb lifts his gaze peer over at Beau, one eyebrow raised. She flashes him the middle finger, but whatever it is tugs on his leg again.

It’s not Frumpkin. He’s learned well enough from his classes that having his cat with him has the tendency to cause quite a scene, so he doesn’t bring him into the cafeteria. Jester is simply lying to him, he decides, and so the next time her tail tugs on the leg of his pants, Caleb kicks in her direction. When he does this, the table shrieks, causing all three of them to jump. Quickly, Caleb shoves his chair back to look underneath.

There, her gold eyes glowing at him from between the table legs, and looking rather frantic, is Nott. She’s wearing one of Caleb’s rattier sweatshirts with the hood pulled up, clutching a leather bag to her chest.

He blinks down at her. “Nott? How did you get here?” he asks, offering her a hand. She takes it, allow Caleb to pull her out from under the table, scrabbling up into the empty chair next to him.

“I- aaaaah - I took the bus.” Nott says, wringing her fingers in her lap. “I took the bus card out of your room, and I took the bus here. You forgot this at the apartment when you left this morning.” she thrust the leather bag into Caleb’s hands. Inside is his Practical Alchemy textbook. “I-I didn’t know if you- if you’d be needing it for your- classes and things so I thought I should probably bring it to you.”

Caleb smiles, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You did not have to do that, but thank you.”

“You’re very welcome Caleb.” She says. “It took me a while to find you. I- I thought you might have been in the library, but you weren’t there so- so I kept looking. I didn’t think you’d be here-!” she gestures to the cafeteria. “And with so many people!”

Caleb scratches at his cheek “-well, ah, you know-”

“Who’s your friend, Caleb??” Jester asks, leaning further into his space. He jumps, having nearly forgotten that he and Nott are, in fact, not the only people at this table. Beau and Jester are watching the pair of them with expressions that range from mildly curious to somewhat critical. The ever present knot in Caleb’s stomach pulls taut. He fidgets a hand across his face, gesturing vaguely between the girls with the other.

“Nott, these are -uhh- this is Jester, and over there is Beauregard.” he says.

Beau jerks her chin up. “Hey.”

Jester beams, laying across the table top to offer Nott a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you Nott!” she says

“Uhh-?” Nott glances frantically between Jester’s offered hand and Caleb, who nods encouragingly. So Nott tentatively extends a gloved hand. “I- uh- it's- it's nice to -umm met you too, I guess. You’re very blue,” she adds. Jester giggles.

“Thank you! You are very green!” She says, brightly and loudly. The knot pulls, yanking Caleb’s chest tight.

Nott is not wearing her helmet or her mask, and while the gloves do their part hide her skin, they can’t conceal that fact that she’s only got four fingers on each hand, and the hood barely hides her face. It quickly dawns on him the Nott is a very small goblin in a large room full to some  degree with casters.

Beau leans forward onto her elbows and nods. “Pretty interesting look you got there. You a goblin then?”

Nott jumps half a foot out of her chair. “No! I-I’m a little halfling girl!” She shrieks. “ And I would appreciate if you didn’t- didn’t bring up my-! Skin condition,,,”

“It is alright Nott” Caleb lays hand on her bony shoulders. Squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, he glares down the others. “Yes, Nott is a goblin. She is my roommate, and most importantly she is a dear friend.” he says all this is harsh whisper. “Now, if that is going be a problem-”

Beau rolls her shoulders. “No problem, man. Just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page here.” she tells him. Then she turns to Nott, who tenses under her intent, blue gaze. “You cool?”

“I-” Nott stammers. “Yeah! I- I’m ,,, cool.”

Beau nods, resting her chin on her folded forearms. “Good shit, cause you know- lotta goblins aren't.”

Caleb opens his mouth, ready to protest on his friend’s behalf, but a little hand over his own gives him pause.

“It’s alright, it’s alright Caleb.” she says. “She’s not wrong- goblins are horrible, and mean, but I’m- I’m not like other goblins. So uhh- you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Just making sure” Beau says

Caleb tightens his hold on Nott’s shoulder “Nott and I are very close.” He tells the other two, adamantly. There's a warning laced into his words. He wants to make it very clear just how much he would be willing to risk for her and, if either of them were to make a move against her, it would not end well for them.

“So how long have you and Nott known each other?” Jester asks, effectively defusing the conversation.

“About a sixteen months or so now?” Caleb says, and Nott nods

“Yes- about a year I think.” She replies “We met in prison.”

Caleb takes a sharp breath in, squeezing her shoulder, hard.

“Prison?” Beau asks.

“Oh, that's horrible! What happened??”  Asks Jester

“Sorry! I- its-!” She looks over  to Caleb, who shakes his head _-no-_ , wringing her fingers out. “We were both in prison-!” She blurts. “I- I steal things, sometimes, so they- I was in jail and- and they threw Caleb into the holding cell with me. It was just over night, but- in the morning they were letting Caleb go but- but they weren't going to let me leave so- so uhhh so Caleb set one of the garbage cans on fire and I- I snuck out before they could lock the door again.”

“Hu-” Beau says. Her eyes are locked on Caleb’s, “awful nice of him”

“Oh yes!” Nott says, head bounce in agreement “Caleb is very nice. And he's very smart too. He uhh- helps keep me out of trouble.”

Caleb is slowly wilting under the praise and the scrutiny. He drops his eyes to the grain of the table, trying to ignore the uncomfortable cold sweat on the back his neck “It was nothing” he tells his own shaking hands.

“I wouldn't say it was nothin-” Beau says “not a lotta people out there willing to do something like that- especially for a weird little goblin they met the night before.”

Caleb levels his gaze on her. “It was the right thing to do, ja?”

Beau shrugs “fair enough.”

“I knew you were nice, Caleb.” Says Jester, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Even though you act like a cranky old man sometimes.” she too turns to address Nott. “But you said you two were roommates though? That’s so cool, where do you live? Around here? Caleb never tells us anything.”

“I- uhh, I we,,,” Nott stammers. Caleb doesn’t blame her, Jester can be a lot even on her most quiet of days. Luckly, she saved from her spirling when another, equally colorful figure approaches their table.

This quite lunch is quickly becoming more of an event then Caleb is necessarily equip to handle, he thinks absently as Mollymauk, the vibrant lavender tiefling with the gold hoops through his horns, saunters over.

“Well this is certainly a motley crew.” he says. He slings an arm around Jester, who presses back into him with a delighted squeal.

“Hi Molly.” she says, tilting her head up expectantly.

Giggling, Mollymauk leans over a plant a quick peck to her cheek. “Jester, dear.” he nods over at Beau, watching him with a sour expression. “Unpleasant one.”

Beau mouth curls up into an unsettling, tight lipped grimace. “Sup asshole.”

Mollymauk hums. “Delightful as always.” he says. his gaze drifts off of her and instead fall on Caleb, who he beams at, eyes big and curious.

“Hello there-!” he snap a few times, searching, then slaps the table with enough force to make Caleb jump. “Caleb! Yes Caleb, Caleb who brings his cat to class with him. It’s been a while, yeh?”

“It’s been about a week, actually.’ Caleb corrects.  Molly shrugs.

“You guys know each other?” Jester asks, excitedly.

“Sure!”

“Nien-” Caleb interjects. All eyes at the table fix on him, he pokes at the frayed hole in his knit cardigan. “He- uuh wandered into one of my lectures a few days back. We have not spoken since.” he says.

“Doesn’t matter.” Mollymauk says. “I bond quick.” he pulls back from Jester, giving Caleb a quick up and down before his gaze flickers to the right. “Ah! An unfamiliar face!” he holds a hand out to Nott, who seems thoroughly overwhelmed by the number of people she met in the last ten minutes. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends.”

Caleb watches the way her gold eyes go wide and, of course. He followers her gaze. Molly’s long fingers are ladened with gold and silver rings, each sparkling softly in the dull sunlight trickling through the clouds. She puts her tiny hand in his.

“Nott.” she squeezes out.

“Nott is my friend.” Caleb says, firmly. There’s no point hiding it now, the hood is hardly enough cover on its own and by the subtle quirk of Mollymauk’s brow, he’s noticed that Nott is not quite ‘typical’.  So he wants to make it abundantly clear, to all parties at the table that anyone wanting to get to her will have to go through him. Nott has given him so much when he has not deserved it, he owns her this loyalty, at least.

Mollymauk gives Nott’s hand a squeeze. “Any friend of Caleb’s is a friend of mine.” he says. He tone is light and breezing, but his gaze flickers in Caleb’s direction. There’s an earnestness to it. Caleb knows that he understands the implication of his words and once again Caleb finds himself quite grateful for the reverence the tiefling treats the situation with.

Mollymawks straightens up once more and slaps his hands together. “It’s wonderful that I’ve found all of you here, actually.” He says, and there's a shift in the way he speaks, his tone becoming far more plastic. “Do any of you have plans later tonight?”

Jester hums, pressing a thoughtful finger to her lips. “No, I don’t think so. Beau, do we have any plans tonight?”

“I don’t-’ Beau flinders. “I mean we didn’t  have anything-”

“Why are you asking?” Caleb fixes the tiefling with a look.

“Funny that-” Mollymauk claps his hand behind his back, grin stretched across his face. “You see, I’m part of the theater program here and we’re actually putting on a little performance tonight. And I must say, I saw you all over here, and I thought to myself, those look  like people who could use a night out.”

“Are you patronizing us?” Beau asks. Caleb thinks her glare could skewer a lesser, smarter man. Mollymauk however, continues to beam

“Actually, we’re hoping you’ll patronize us.” he says, winking.

“Oh Molly your play is tonight!?” Jester asks and Molly nods excitedly. “That’s so cool! You’ve been talking about it forever basically.”

“What- ahh- what’s this- this ‘play’ about exactly?” Nott asks and Caleb can see her reaching into the pocket he knows she keeps her multi-tool. He reaches over and with a deft hand, jerks her arm back. Things are going well, he doesn’t need her causing a scene by stabbing a corkscrew into Mollymauk’s hand.

Mollymauk drums his fingers on the table. “An excellent question! We’ve got flyers floating around here somewhere. Yasha darling?” he shouts indiscriminately over his shoulder.

Beau sits up a little straighter in her chair as Yasha emerges out of the crowd and approaches their group. Caleb recognizes her from orientation. She was the one who gave Nott the flower sticker. She’s considerably  more intimidating when she's standing, looming really, over their table in a heavy looking leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders. Standing next to Mollymauk, the two make quite a pair. Yasha, dressed in grays, with tattered black jeans, stands like a stoic century behind Mollymauk, who’s wearing a sequin covered crop top and tight, electric purple jeans, grinning like a fool. Quite an odd pair indeed. Then again, and he glances over at Nott out of the corner of his eye. She biting down nervously on her nails, glowering at Mollymauk, Caleb’s hand still wrapped tight around her wrist. Then again, how must the pair of them look to the outside observer. Who is he to pass any sort of judgement. He’s a filthy, half baked wizard who’s best friend is a goblin.

“Yasha darling, do we have any more of those flyers? Ah yes! Thank you dear!” Molly takes the flyer sand starts passing them around. Caleb takes one, reading it over.

_Tonight! Whidermount Community College Theater Department Presents_

_The Terrible Tinker of Tal’ Dorie_

_Join us on a thrilling, chilling narrative journey. Learn the Legend of the Man who became a Monster. The Horrible Inventor from a land across the sea! Grizzly sights and terrible frights await you as we unold the story of THE TERRIBLE TINKERER OF TAL'DOREI_

_TONIGHT_

_At the Merriam Theater on campus_

_Elderly and the faint of heart take caution // Middlemount Community College theater Troupe takes no responsibility for incident or injury involving those in poor health that may occur during the show._

_TONIGHT EIGHT PM_

_THE  MARIAN THEATER_

 

“The hell is this part here.” Beau says. “-Take no responsibility for incident or injury involving- what the fuck dude?”

Molly dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “Staging.” he says. “We’re trying to create an atmosphere.”

“And you-” Caleb gestures to Molly. “Eagh- you will be in the show, ja?”

“Oh gods no.” Mollymauk says. “Technical management. I’ll be working the lights tonight.”

“Ah-” Caleb nods. “I just assumed, you know, you seem like quite the character.”

The cheap, salesman smile Mollymauk had been wearing immediately melts away, revealing a far more sincere grin underneath that lights up his whole face. “Good looking and funny! Hadn’t realized.”

Caleb worries the corner of his flyer between his fingers, glaring down at it. “Hardly.”

“But like- you’re gonna be there too., right?” Beau asks Yasha, who shrugs.

“I will. Not on stage though.” Yasha says. Beau looks almost disappointed to hear it. “But I will be there ushering and, you know, working security.”

“Oh cool,” Beau says, nodding. “Cool, cool yeah that’s- good shit man.”

Jester starts cackling. Beau throws a handful of fries at her. Mollymauk claps his hands together once more.

“So! We can expect to see you there tonight then?” he asks

The four at the table exchange looks.

“Well- I really want to go.” Jester proclaims. She crosses her arms resolutely over her chest.

Beau sneaks what she thinks must be a subtle glance at Yasha out of the corner of her eye, and shrugs. “I mean- sounds kinda fun. Fuck it, might as well.”

Caleb looks over at Nott. “What do you think?’ he asks her. “Would you like to go see the show tonight?”

Nott pulls on the cords of the hoodie, kicking her feet. “We- we never go do stuff like this,,,” she says

“Ja, I- we don’t” Caleb says.

“And I- I’ve never been to- to a uhh- a ‘play’ before.” she continues. Then she nods decidedly . “I think we should go,,, If that’s okay with you of course Caleb-!”

Caleb bites down a soft smile. “Ja, ja it’s alright. We can go with our- our new friends here and see Mollymauk’s show.”

“Excellent!” Molly says. “Oh, this is just excellent. Wonderful! So that’s a yes from everyone then?” he does a quick head count, bouncing a finger over each of their heads. “Alright then, so that- four - five seats then? Fjord’s coming too. Right up at the front good for everyone?”

“You’ll get us front row seats?” Jester masks. She’s practically bounce in her seat, Caleb worries she's going to bounce right out of it an onto the floor.

“I can pull a few strings for friends.” Mollymauk squeezes her should. “Tonight at eight.” he then says to the table at large. “Don’t be late!”

 

“I’ve never seen a- a play before. Are there always so many people here?” Nott asks.

Caleb shrugs “They are usually pretty busy, ja”

Seven thirty finds the pair of them pressed against the lobby of the Wildemount theater building, pressed into the wall to avoid the milling, chattering crowd. Nott clings to Caleb’s hand, tugging at the skirt of her dress as her big brown eyes scan the crowd anxiously. As Caleb had feared , the lobby is full to bursting with students, a hoodie alone wouldn't be enough to cover Nott from roving eyes. So she's donned her mask, an old porcelain doll mask they’d found in a box of old junk that showed up at the store a few months back, and summoned up the likeness of a little halfling girl around herself. A little girl with brown eyes and a mop of ginger hair not too dissimilar to Caleb’s, and a simply blue dress for the occasion. It's been quite a while since Caleb's been to the theater but he remembers it as quite the formal affair. So he's thrown on his one nice button up and his least shit pair of jeans and dragged them out of the apartment with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Do you see any of the weirdos yet?” Not asks him.

Caleb pulls at his collar, no longer used to the snug fit of it around his neck. Or perhaps it just been that long scenes he’s worn it and he should consider purchasing a new one. “Nein- I have not seen anyone we know.”

A group a chattering girls pass them and Nott presses against his leg like a startled dog. “I bet this- all of this is a trap! I-I bet they set up this ‘play’ thing so they could trick us! And kill us!” she screeches.

“I do not think that is the case Liebling. Take a drink and calm yourself.” he says absently.

“Right, right, good idea Caleb, yeah” Nott produces a little silver flask from under her glamour and unscrews the top with shaking fingers. “You're so smart.”

Caleb cranes his neck up, trying to catch a glimpse of blue or purple or goth over the heads of the crowd. He doesn’t think that Jester and Beauregard or even Mollymauk would setup such an elaborate ruse just to murder him in an alley, but a nagging, scathling voice tells him that they’ve probably just gone ahead without them. He wouldn’t blame them, he is awkward and surly. Not very companionable or pleasant to be around. The group had probably come to such a conclusion and figured it best to disregard the pair of them and have a good night out. Gods know how often Jester has refused to him as a ‘downer’. He doesn’t blame them for wanting to get away from him. He often wish he could escape from himself.

“We should just leave,” Nott insists. She tugs at Caleb’s arm. “We should go before the scary purple one jumps us and takes all our shinies.”

Maybe Nott is right. About the leaving, not the impending mugging her frantic mind has concocted. There are a lot of people here and the two of them are very out of place here, tucked away in dark corner, especially with Nott’s ceaseless screeching about murder conspiracies. There’s no point in lingering someplace they’re clearly not wanted, if that is to be the case. He nods slowly, giving the crowd one last cursory look.

“Ja,,, maybe we should-” he takes all of two steps towards the door before he hears Jester, bellowing over the crowd.

“Caleb! Over here Caleb!”

A couple of people shuffle out of the way and as the tide of bodies parts he spots Jester, waving frantically at him and hopping up and down. Beside her, Beau is shaking her head, fingers pinched at the bridge of her nose. Jester’s wearing pale pink dress that shimmers and sparkles in the light while Beau is clad in simple black leggings and a turquoise button up with the top two buttons undone.  Jester grabs her by the arm and hauls the taller woman towards them.

“There you are Caleb, we’ve been looking like basically everywhere for you.” Jester says in a rush. “Beau thought you weren’t gonna show up.”

Beau shrugs. “Eeeh- I figured it was about fifty-fifty.” she says.

Caleb doesn’t mention that he very nearly didn’t. Instead he nods to the both of them, mustering up a tight grimace of a smile.

Jester seems to take it as greeting enough because she beams. “You look very nice Caleb! You clean up so well!”

By ‘clean up’ she means the fact that he’d brushed his hair and put on a clean shirt. Again he makes no comment, just offers another stiff jerk of the head.

Jester’s eyes then fall on Nott and her mouth drops open into a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh Caleb, you didn’t tell us you have a daughter!”

He cringes back. “Nein, this is-” he begins.

“Why does everyone think that I’m his daughter!” Nott shrieks.

“Is that Nott?” Beau asks.

Caleb nods swiftly, dropping his voice to a rough whisper. “Ja, this is Nott, she is under a disguise self charm so can we please stop drawing attention to the awkward wizard and the goblin, _danke-_ ”

“Nott that dress is so pretty!” Jester coos. “Did Caleb help you pick it out?”

“No I - I picked it out myself” Not says, slowly. “I-I like this color.”

Jester nods adamantly. “It’s a really good color. And it looks so nice on you!”

Not shuffles her feet. The little hand around Caleb’s tightens. “You’re only saying that cause I- because I look- like- like this.” she yanks on a lock of hair, her brows pinch together.

“Don’t be silly, Nott. that dress would look pretty on you no matter what. Blue is the best color after all.” Jester says, firmly. “Now come on, let's get to our front row seats!”

With Jester leading the charge, their odd little group shuffles through the crowd up to the auditorium doors. There they spot Yasha, in a sharp black blazer jacket and slacks, taking tickets as people head inside.

“Oh shit-”Beau breaths, seemingly rooted in place.  Caleb rolls his eyes.

“You are drooling Beauregard.” he whispers to her.

“Fuck you Caleb.” she knocks and elbow into his ribs, knocking the air out of him

“Hi Yasha!” Jester calls, bounding up to the tall woman.

Yasha smiles down at her, the same soft, slightly awkward smile the Caleb feels an immediate kinship with, and she nods. “Hello Jester. Caleb. Beau.”

“Sup-” Beau says, jerking her chin up. “You uhh- you look great. Like, real classy, ya know.”

“It’s sort of the uniform so,,” Yasha says. “I don’t really, you know, get much of a choice.”

“Yeah yeah right.” Beau nods. “Fuck uniforms, right?”

“,,, Right,,” Yasha says, clearly confused.  
“Oh Yasha, Molly never gave us any tickets. Do you know where we can get them?” Jester interjects, inadvertently rescuing Beau from that train wreck of an interaction.

“Actually,” Yasha says. “Molly said just to let you all in. Friends and family discount.”

“Well that was real fuckin nice of him.” Beau says. She folds her arms tight over his chest.

Yasha nods “He’s like that sometimes. It’s going to get him into trouble one of these days. Anyway, you can all go in.”

“Aren't you gonna like- show us to out seats.” Beau asks. “You know, - in case we get lost.”

Yasha chuckles and its a sound that very much reminds Caleb of rain on windchimes. “No, I have to stay here. But you know, I think you will be okay. Your friends here seem to have pretty good heads on their shoulders.” she passes out programs to all of them. “All the way at the front on the right. I think Molly’s roommate is already there. He’s a half orc, sort of hard to miss him.”

“I know what he looks like. Thanks!” Jester says. “Oh- and doesn’t Nott just look so cute?!”

Caleb moves past the girls, slipping down the center aisle. Just as Yasha had said, the first row on the right hand side is empty, save for a half orc man whos flipping through a program of his own. Caleb settles into a seat one over from him. His palms are clammy with sweat, Caleb scrubs them off on his jeans before turning to address the half orc.

“You are Mollymauk’s roommate, ja?” he asks. Mollymauk’s roommate glances over at him

“Yeah-” He holds out a hand. “Fjord-”

Caleb takes it. He’s been shaking a lot of hands in the last few weeks.  “Caleb- Widogast”

“Damn pleasure to meet cha, Caleb.” Fjord says. He gives his hand a firm, quick shake.

“So- eghh- you were also dragged out to this show?” Caleb says.

He chuckles, somewhat sheepishly. “Yeah- Molly’s one persuasive fucker.”

Caleb nods along. “Ja, he does seem very-” charismatic isn’t quite right. “- persistent.”

“That’s a good word for it.” Fjord says.

“What- ahh what it is like, you know, living with someone like him” He asks.

Fjord shrugs. “Bout what you’d imagine, I expect.”

Caleb imagines that living with Mollymauk is very loud and tiring. He imagines it would give him migraines and he would eventually take up permanent residence in the library before the year's end, just for a moment of peace and quiet. Mollymauk is a lot, and Caleb imagines he is even more in the privacy of his own space, colorful theater man that he is. He almost offers up his condolences to Fjord, but the other man bets him to the punch.

“He’s a good man, though’ He says. “Real considerate guy, most of the time.”

“Oh, Fjord, you are here! Hello Fjord!” Jester come barreling towards them down the aisle, Beau and Nott in tow, and she throws herself into the empty seat between them.

Fjord offers Caleb a helpless, apologetic look over Jester’s shoulder as the little blue tiefling dives into a tangent about how excited she is to see the show. Caleb nods because he understands all too well what Jester gets like when she wants someones undivided attention. Nott scrabbles up into the seat to his left, and Beau settles in left of her. While Jester talks poor Fjord’s ear off, Caleb rifles through his program. Most, if not all of the names on the cast list are not names he recognizes. He does, however pick out Mollymauk’s name in the long list of technical producers.

And, apparently all it takes is a thought to summon him because after a moment of cute perusal, a long lavender fingertips his program down.

“Jester warned me you were a reader.” Mollymauk says. He deep, pupiless eyes glitter with a joke Caleb doesn't understand. He push back in his seat, pressing against the cushion.

“And what is wrong with reading?” he asks, perphase a touch more defensive they is strictly necessary.

“Nothing at all if you like that sort of thing. I just hope the performance tonight with be interesting enough to distract you from it for a while. Or else we haven't really done a very good job, have we?” he says, pulling back with a smile.

“Hi Molly!” Jester greets.

Molly nods to her. Tonight, the tiefling is clad in an all black ensemble. A black long sleeved shirt with wide neck the hangs off his shoulders and black leggings. Is the least interesting thing Caleb has ever seen him wear.

“Everyone’s here?” Mollymauk asks, glancing up and down the row. “Wonderful wonderful. We’ve got a real treat tonight for you folks, guaranteed to be our best performance yet. Now I’ve got to get to place in a moment here, but I just wanted to drop in real quick to see you all before the show starts. And! To let you know that you are all invited to the bar with Yasha and I, after the show. Drinks on me.”

“Do we get to go to the cast party?” Jester squeals.

Mollymauk winks at her. “Better than  the cast party. We’re gonna get piss drunk and make fun of the cast party, so don't go anywhere after curtains.” he says.

The lights in the room start to flicker and dim. Mollymauk glances up at them absently. “Ah- that would be my cue to get moving. Enjoy the show, and please, stick around after and I promise you, I will make it worth the time.”

With a final wink, the  tiefling turns with a flourish and a flick of his tail, and disappears into a side door next to the stage.

In the end the show is about two hours long and it manages to retain Caleb’s attention through the whole thing. The story is interesting and intense, weaving a tale about a young nobleman, an inventor, and the corruption of his soul after his family was gruesomely murdered and his estate sundered. The man became hell bent and eventually driven to madness by his revenge, twisting his morals and corroding his mind until little of the brilliant inventor remain. In the end the man achieves his hard sought after goal, but became a horrible monster in the process. A mask clad phantom of shadow and gunsmoke who, apparently, still prowls the rubble of his family’s estate to this day. The parallels to his own narrative are not lost on Caleb, though he will argue, the comparisons are not one to one. Caleb has no such drive for revenge as this man had. He doesn’t seeks destruction for destruction’s sake, his plans, he feels, are far more ambitious than that. Furthermore, this man had piled on the guilt of his family's death so high that he was eventually crushed under it, though he was little more than a victim himself. Caleb’s guilt, and his shame, are far more justified. In spite of this Caleb still rather enjoyed the performance, it was a good story, if not cartoonishly twisted at times and little disturbed. The only scene that had really effected him was in the first ten minutes of the play, when goons of  the rival nobility set the young man’s home ablaze, killing everyone inside. That had been- uncomfortable to say the least. Its was a fake enough fire that Caleb could easily discern the differences, that hadn’t been the issue. It was the screaming that did it. The unintelligible, pleading cries from within the manor as the boy fled filled his gut with lead. Had almost summoned up the smell of charred flesh in his nostrils but he had managed to sit quietly through it, sweating like a sinner before the captain of the crowns guard. Apparently, his social anxiety is stronger than his trauma because the thought of leaving abruptly in the middle of the performance like a madman had kept him firmly planted in his seat. He waited for intermission to wash off his face, like any other sane person in perfect mental health.

As promised, Mollymauk had met them out in the lobby after final bows and whisked them out the door to a local bar. A personal favorite of his, he had told them, called the Nestled Nook. Caleb and Nott had agreed that they were only entertaining the endeavor because there’s free booze to be had. Now they're all a tankard or two into the evening, seven strangers crowded around a table in a cluttered, low lit bar. Molly hails for a round of refills, the long, gauszy, peacock patterned shawl he’s donned fluttering out behind him as he does so.

He leans an elbow up on to the table top. “So- what are everyones majors?”

“What are you- a fucking camp counselor?” Beau snaps back.

Molly raises a lofty hand. “RA actually. Hard not to fall into meet and greet mode sometimes but I am actually fansitanted to know what an interesting group of people like yourselves are studying. I’ll even go first, if you'd like, break the ice” he says. “Theatrical production major with an art history minor.”

“Now the production thing I get.” Fjord says picking up his tankard. “Hell of a show y’all put on tonight.”

“Thank you, Fjord dear. “ Molly says.

“But why an art history minor?” he asks.

The waitress walks over at the moment and Molly starts helping her pass drinks along to everyone. “Set design. I draw them and Yasha here helps build them. Thank you dear.” he slips a silver piece into the half elf’s hand with a wink. “Also, I really needed the credit hours, if I’m honest. Anyway! Who’s next? Shall we pass it to the right.” He looks over expectantly at Yasha, who sighs.

“Yeah um, hello, I’m Yasha-” she says

“You don’t have to say your name dear.” Molly interjects.

“- Oh, yes, well. I’m studying botany.” she finishes. Molly pats her gently on the shoulder.

“Yasha’s got a real green thumb I tell you. Her garden is absolutely stunning, she’s just amazing with plants.”

Yasha shrugs, picking at the table. “It’s not that impressive.”

“Nonsense. You grow things I’ve never seen anywhere else. It’s a nice garden.” Molly says, kneading a thumb into her arm. “Who’s next, who’s next?”

Jester shimmies up a little higher in her chair. “Hello, I am Jester, and I’m studying art so that I can make really pretty drawings of the Traveler so they can be hung up temples all over the whole world.” she says sweetly.

Fjords brow furrows. “Traveler?”

Beau shakes her head. “Don't ask, man.”

Jester sticks her tounge out at her roommate. “Don’t be rude Beau. It’s your turn.”  
Beau sinks down lower in her chair. “Undecided.” She mutters into her tankard.

Molly makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Disappointed, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Fuck you, Molly” Beau spits. Mollymauk merely smiles at her, chin in his hand.

“Darling, whatever team you play for, I don’t think that I’m on that one. Flattered though, really,” he says, grin baring his fangs in the gentlest of threats.

The table laughs. Beau flashes Mollymauk the middle finger, cheeks scarlet.

“Whatever, screw you guys too. Nott, it’s your turn.”

Nott jumps, clutching her flask tight to her chest like she's afraid someone's going to come over and take it from her. The disguise person spell wore off just as they were leaving the theater so Caleb had pulled an old hoodie out from under the seat of the scooter for her to wear. With the hood pulled up and the mask still on, Nott’s big gold eyes peek out at the group “I- uhh- I’m- Nott and I uh well I don't actually go to school. I- I run a uuuh- a pawn shop in town,,,” she mutters.

Mollymauk drums his fingers against his tankard. “You are absolutely going to have to let me have a look around in there at some point.” he tells her

All eyes fall to Caleb next and he immediately feel his throat run dry. He pulls at the stubble on his chin, picking a point on the wall over the top of Jester’s head to fixate on. “Ugh ja, I’m- Caleb. I was a Evocation major for a very long time, then I wasn’t much of anything for- an even longer time. But ah- now I am - I have switched to a Transmutation major. Hopefully it will not take me quite so long to finish this one.”

Jester puts her chin to the table. “You’re so mysterious Caleb.” she says, eyeing him over. Caleb tugs at the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’re studying the arcane then?” Fjord asks. Caleb nods.

“Ja, I have been studying the arcane since I was boy. I had a- ah a knack for it from a young age.” he says, slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Imma agricultural engineering major, but I’ve  been thinking of picking up arcane focus for my minor. I’ve got a- a bit of magic” Fjord says. He tips his tarnkard towards his roommate. “Molly’s got some magic of his own too”

Jester gasps excitedly. “Really Molly! Would you show us??”

Mollymauk shrugs and gives Fjord a meaningful look. “Now I do believe you still owe me that drink.”

“I’ll getcha some shots later.” Fjord says like a man who really doesn’t want to be buying shots tonight. Molly seems to take it though, because he smiles a bit wider, leaning back in his seat.

“Very much appreciated, friend.” he starts rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, with the almost clinical motions of a doctor about to administer a shot.  “Now, let see what I can whip up for you all.”

He reaches into his pocket, producing a butterfly switchblade, which he flicks open with a flourish. Caleb scoot his chair back enough that he could swing his legs out from under the table if he needs to and quickly clamps a hand down on Nott’s shoulder before she gets any ideas.

“Dude!” Beau says. Like the rest of the table (sans Yasha) she visibly tenses at the appearance of the blade.

Caleb thinks Mollymauk rolls his eyes, but it's so hard to tell. “Oh settle down.” he tells them. ‘It’s just a knife.”

It’s a long, thin knife. The twin hilts appear to be ivory, smooth and painted with little black flowers. The blade itself is sleek and made of a black steel, but it doesn’t look very sharp. Mollymauk draws it across the back of his upper forearm, across an already puckered patch of knotted purple flesh. Not a big cut, or a deep cut, Caleb notes. Just enough to break the skin. And though his brow tenses and a bit a blood starts to bubble up along the length of the cut, his hand moves with practiced precision. Clearly this is not the first time he’s done this. When the blood hits the air however, it begins to quiver and shake, gathering along the edge of the blade. And when it does this it starts to steam and its starts to crystalize. Where the blood is, ice crystals start to bloom, spreading along the length of the knife until the whole of the blade is covered in a layer of faintly glowing frost. Mollymauk flicks the knife back from his skin, grinning at them.

The table is quiet  as the grave, everybody sitting stock still, staring at Molly and the thin trail of blood still oozing from his arm.

“What-!” the shrill warble of Nott's voice is like a spark on gunpowder, the tension exploded. Jester and Fjord jump, Beau’s knee bangs against the the underside of the table and Caleb squeezes her shoulder so hard he’s sure he would have crusher her were he a stronger man. As it is, she doesn't seem to notice. “What- THE FUCK! Was that!” she hollers. Caleb slaps his other hand over her mouth.

“Absolutely no idea.” Mollymauk says, he sounds almost cheery as he says. With a flick of his wrist the blade drops back, he spins it, twists his hand around then flicks the knife back up towards him. The blade settles into the cradle of the handle and he snaps it shut, extinguishing  the light as he locks it closed with a jerk of his pinkie. “Pretty neat, yeh?” he slips the knife back into his pocket.

Jester fidgets in her seat, fingers tangled into her skirts. “Well yeah but, Molly your arm,,,”

His arm is indeed, still bleeding freely onto his shawl. He shrugs. Jester presses a crumpled wad of brown paper napkins into his hand. “Thank you, Jester dear.” he says. He dabs ideally at the cut. “My blood is a little - weird. Can’t tell you how I do it, I’ve got no bloody idea how it works.”

“Your blood?” Caleb asks. He’s never seen magic like this before, hasn’t really read anything about it either. Not unless you count the scary stories he’d read in the moth bitten pages of old, grimdark fairy tales from centuries long past. His curiosity, childlike and probing, begs him for answers. Some rituals require blood, but he had not thought real blood magic existed up until tonight.

“That’s been my past experience with it.” Molly says dully, possibly just confessing to having drawn blood from another person, which Caleb quitely sweeps under the rug. “I can do other- strange, interesting- things but, it gets a bit messy, so.”

“That’s- mighty impressive Molly” Fjord says. “How’d ya learn you coulds do something like that?”

“Jumped through a window, cut myself on a piece of broken glass, if you can believe it.” he says. He pokes at the fresh cut with a clawed finger. More blood started to dribble out. Yasha shoves another fistful of napkins into his hand. “Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack first time it happened.”

Fjord blinks at him. “Thats-”

“You jumped through a fucking glass window?” Beau asks. She almost sounds impressed.

“Turns out nudity is not always the answer.” he replies, corner of his mouth hitched up in a cockeyed grin.

“Caleb can do magic too!” Nott shrieks, causing everyone to pause.

Molly quirks a brow at him, intrigued. “That so?”

“Oh Caleb show us, show us!! Molly showed us his thing so now you have to show us something too, it's the rules!” Jester says.

“I’m also sorta interested.” Fjord adds. “S’long as you’re not gonna make me buy you a drink first.”  Beside him Molly giggles.

“Please Caleb, pleeeeease!” Jester begs, laying across the table, wiggling her fingers at him.

Nott tugs at his sleeve, tugging him down to her level. “Show them the lights Caleb.” she rasps out in what she must think is a whisper. Caleb is sure the rest of the table can hear her quite well.

Caleb rubs a hand over his face, wearily, reaching up to tug at his hair. He’s made a spectacle of himself in front of more people for far less before, he supposes. “Ja, alright,,,”

Flexing his fingers, Caleb summons four orbs of soft yellow-gold light into existence over their table. With a thought he directs them to form a circle overhead, bouncin a swaying in time with the music drifting over from the stage. The group ‘ooh’ and ‘aah” appoperatilty and Caleb can’t help but feel rather smug at that. Magic is as innate to him as knowing the time of day, one of the few infalible things about him, he has a right to feel  proud of that.

Beau jerks her head his way. ‘So you do like- party tricks?” She asks.

Nott leaps up so that's she's standing in her chair instead sitting it. “Caleb is the most powerful wizard in the world!” she hollers.

Caleb jerks her back down by the back of her hoodie. “Nott please, not so loudly.” he chides before turning back to the group at large, stomach tight. “It is a work in progress. I still have much to learn.” he tells them.

Mollymauk hums, teeth pressed behind the silver stud in his tongue. “Got anything else?”

Caleb shrugs. “If course I do. Do you have a coin?”

“I do in fact.” Molly says, fishing around in his pocket. “Does it matter the type?”

“Nein, any coin will do.” he tells him. Mollymauk flips him a silver piece which Caleb somehow manages to catch and not make an ass out of himself chasing it across the bar floor.

He turns the coin over in his fingers a few times before taking it between his palms and pressing down hard. He feels the warmth of it against his skin as he mutters a few magical incantations. When he pulls his hands back, the silver piece is now gold. He flips it back to Mollymauk, who seems delighted as he holds it up to the light to inspect.

“Absolutely incredible.” the tiefling mutters. Reaching across the table, he snags Caleb by the wrist and presses the coin into his palm. “Keep it. I recognize a good show when I see one.” he winks, leaning  back in his chair.

“Ah- danke-” Caleb slips the gold piece into his pocket.  

Mollymauk slaps a hand down on the table. “Right, well, I’m in the mood for some pool. Anyone else up for pool? Fjord? Yasha?”

“Yeah, I could go for a game.” Fjord says.

Beau knocks back the rest of her tankard. “I’ll play.”

“Can I play too?” Jester asks. “I’ve never played pool before, though.”

“Ah- it's not too hard.” Beau says, punching Jester lightly on the arm.

“We’ll teach ya Jester,.” Fjord adds.

Jester beams at him, lashes fluttering. “That is so nice of you, Fjord.” She says, rocking up out of her chair. Coming around the table she latches onto Fjord’s arm, dragging him in the direction of the pool table. Heavens help him, Caleb thinks as he watches the half orc stumble after her, that girl is going to eat him alive.

Molly stands, setting a hand on Yasha big shoulder. “Coming Yasha?”

She shakes her head. “No, No, I think I will sit this one out, you go ahead.”

Mollymauk shrugs. “Suit yourself.” he says, and kiss the crown of her head. Then he nods over at Beau. “Looks like it's you and me, unpleasant one.”

Beau throws her head back, slowly pushing herself from her seat with a long, exaggerated groan. Begrudgingly she follows the others.

Beside Caleb, Nott fidgets. He turns to her. “What do you think?” the group has dispersed, they could feasibly excuse themselves from the rest of the evening's activities now and go home. They’ve both drank their fill, or Caleb has at least, and he feels no pressure to stay any longer with these people. But he defres the decision to Nott.

She pulls on the cords of her hood until they snap back at her. “I- I think I might go take a - a ‘walk’ for a bit.” she says. “I just saw a man with a very nice stick go outside.”

Caleb’s chest warms fondly. He pats her on the top of the head. “Alright Liebling, but be careful, ja? I will be here when you are ready to go.”

Nott nods. “I’ll be careful.” she slips down out of her chair. Caleb watches her until she's scurried out the door.

And then its just Caleb and Yasha left at the table. The void of conversation hangs over them like a piano on a frying string neither of them comments on. They sip their beers in silence, staring vaguely at opposite walls.

“You and Nott seem close.” Yasha says eventually, and Caleb lets himself breath again.

“Ja,” he says, horsly. “Ja, she is- her and I are very close.”

Yasha nods slowly. “That’s good. That’s good, you know, it is good to have people you are close to,,,”

Caleb nods, burying his face in his tankard once more. They fall quiet te again. It's so suffocatingly awkward, like when you’re having a conversation with someone you knew a lifetime ago and you run out of things to say but can’t find an out from the conversation.

“How long have you known Mollymauk?” Caleb tires, picking at his shirt sleeve again.

Yasha looks out over to where the others are and Caleb follows her gaze. Mollymauk is leaning against his pool cue, snickering to himself while Jester preens under Fjord guiding her arm through the striking motion.

“We’ve known each other a while now, you know. About three years now.  We ah- well we both didn’t really have anywhere to go. Gustav took me in a few months after Molly, so, you know, we’re close. I am not so good with people, as you can probably tell. He tries to help with that.”

“Sounds like Nott and I.” Caleb says.

She smile contemplatively at him. “It does a bit, doesn’t it?.” Yasha stands. “I’m going to get going though, things like this-” she gestures vaguely around the room. “-Are not really for me. Tell Molly I said goodbye, will you?”

Caleb nods. “Gute nacht, Yasha.”

She offers him another soft smile, then slips out the door like Nott before her.

A moment later, Beau drops herself into the seat next to him. She nods once at the door. “Yasha leave?” she asks.

“Ja,  she said she was done for the evening.” Caleb tells her.

“Damn it.” Beau swears under her breath. Caleb notes that she’s holding two fresh tankards of beer. She sets them down on the table and shoves on towards Caleb. “Here, my fuckin treat.” she grumbles.

Caleb pulls at his beard. “You ahh- you are interested in her?” he asks, awkwardly raising the new drink to his lips.

“She’s fucking hot, man.” Beau says.

Caleb shrugs. “If you say so.”

“She not your type?” Beau asks, looking at him expectantly. Caleb scratches at his cheek, staring down at the table.

“No- she is not.” he says.

“So what is your type then?’ she bumps her shoulder into his.

“I do not like this question.” Caleb tells his drink.

Beau sighs and nudges him again. “Aw come on man, it's not like I’m gonna judge ya. I’m a raging fucking lesbian over her.” she nudges him a _third time._ “You gay?”

Caleb shifts fully in his sit to face her, ears burning. “You are very blunt, ja?”

The only defense she offers up is a shrug. “I didn’t have the best parents.” she tells him coolly. “Not very good a making friends.”

Truth be told, Caleb hasn’t give much thought to where his attraction lies, looking back on it now he thinks he may never have been given the opportunity to figure it out. Many things were just assumed of him growing up. It was assumed that he would be brilliant. People assumed he would do well in school, his parents assumed he would make them proud and so he did so. It was assumed he would be top of his class, and so Caleb studied like hell to make it so. It was assumed he would of course be chosen to learn under Ikathon, and he was. Everyone always assumed he and Astrid would make the perfect match.  The best and brightest of their young men and the most clever of their young women, two brilliant children from the same little town now off at the same school. It always felt like there were expectant eyes on them, watching and waiting. And Caleb, so young and eager to please everyone, eventually asks her to a ball. He never really considered whether he had any romantic feelings towards her, if he was even really attracted to her at all. He had just always assumed that he was because that’s what everyone else seemed to think. Who was he to prove them wrong? So Caleb can’t honestly say who he’s attracted to one way or the other, he’s never had the time, or the incentive, really, to sit down and troll through his memories to try and figure it out.

However he doesn’t know how to make his mouth form all the words to say these things so instead he opts to change the subject.

“Can we please talk about, anything else?” he asks Beau.

Beau shrugs. “Sure. You wanna talk about you’re little thing back at the show?’ She sips her beer. “Not a fan of fire?”

His chest pulls so tight it squeezes the air out of his throat. He pulls in one breath, slowly, then another. “Not many people are.” he says finally.

“You know you're real fucking avoidant for someone trying to act like they’re not hiding shit.” Beau shoots back.

“Well, I do not know what to tell you.” he says, firmly. His knuckles are growing white around his tankard.

“Something happen when you were a kid?’ She continues to probe, brash woman. “Set the kitchen on fire or some shit? Burned all your hair off.”

Caleb levels his gaze on her. “Fire took my family from me, I do not wish to discuss it further.” he tells her , warning wavering in his voice.

Instead of pushing further however, Beau’s face softens. “Aw, shit dude I didn’t- fuck.” she scrubs a and over her face. “I- sorry, I’m a real fucking asshole when I drink, more than usual. Its not a fuckin’ excuse, I didn’t mean to like- unbury that shit on you, man.”

Caleb presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, drawing in a low, steadying breath before her feels ready to respond. “It is alright, just- it is not something I feel comfortable discussing.” Iit's such a heavy handed understatement it feels like a lie.

Beau nods, “yeah yeah man, that’s cool. Just- if you like,,, need someone to talk to,,,” she pats his shoulder awkwardly. “- that’s something people say right?”

“Ja,” Caleb says dully. “You are a prodigy of basic human interaction.”

“Hey man, I’m doing my best. I’ve never had to deal with- shit like this before.”

“Emotions?” Caleb asks.

“Yeah, those.” she nods.

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Well, _danke_ , but I will not be needing a eh- shoulder to cry on. I am doing perfectly fine on my own.” Another lie, he thinks. But he will never admit that to Beauregard.

Beau opens her mouth just as a flourish of color catches Caleb’s attention out of the corner of his eye. A warm hand landed heavily on his back, he tries not to jump out from under it.

Mollymauk is here and he’s beaming at the both of them.

“Guy’s, they’re doing a drinking competition,.” he says, breathlessly. Now that he points it out, Caleb can hear the distant announcement for something called the ‘Hour of Honor’. “You in?”

“‘Course I am.” Beau says, shuffling to her feet. “I’m gonna drink you motherfuckers under the table.”

“Lovely.” Molly says before turning to Caleb. He gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Can you hold your liquor?” he asks

Caleb is just this side of drunk enough to fix him with a withering look. “Ja, I am an hundred and forty pound nerd, I can hold my liquor.” and to prove his point, he knocks back the rest of his drink. Molly smiles at him in wide eyed delight.

“Atta boy Caleb.” he says, hauling his out of his chair by the arm. “Let’s kick some asses, yeah?”

 

Little hands on his shoulder shake Caleb awake. He blink, slowly lifting his head that feels thirty pound heavier and somehow also stuffed with wool.

“ _Was-_?” he asks, peeking around blearily until his eye focus on Nott. he still in the bar, slouched over in a seat with his head in his arms. “Nott?”

“You passed out after drinking so much” Nott tells him, tugging at his sleeve.

Caleb groans, tucking his face back into the crook of his elbows. He remembers bits and pieces of what happened. Remembers Beau puking up her last drink into the trash, remembers Fjord handily out drinking an elf, then they’d sat him down and from there things get fuzzy. He  remembers drinking, and drinking, and _drinking_ and - god dammit, why had he drank so much? He doesn’t remember winning, but he does remember Mollymauk pulling him out of his chair, raising his arm triumphantly into the air as he hollered and laughed, so maybe he did win, which would have been a feat. He remembers, vaguely, someone helping him up into this chair, from there on it's just a haze of warm static.

“Everyone else went back to their- their dorms I think.” Nott continues. “ Molly got us a ride back to the apartment. Said he didn’t want you fallin’ off the back of the scooter on the way home.”

Caleb nods, or at least he tries ires tho, he doesn’t think his head moved very much. “Ja, ja, uh, danke, that was- eh nice of him.” with Nott’s help he staggers out of his seat.

“A little too nice if you ask me.” she huffs. “I still think they're going to try and rob us.”

 


	3. Caleb in the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb enjoys working in the library. It's quite and he's left alone, for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah wow so this fic isn't dead, but it did take far to long to update so I apologize for that. Hopefully more consistent updates in the future.

Caleb realizes that his day is about to make a rather abrupt and painful turn for the worst when Jester, with violent huff, heaves out the chair between Beauregard and himself in a way that causes the legs to screech across the floor, before throwing herself into it. Her arms are folded tightly over her front, chin tucked down against her chest, her face pinched tight in a grimace. If he thought he was quick enough to get away he would have leapt from his seat, but Jester is an absolute storm, there’s no way he could out run her, especially when she’s like this. He decides to save himself the one side skirmish and stays firmly in place, tucking his head behind his book instead. Beau is much braver than he is, she stabs her fork at Jester and nods.

“What crawled up your ass?” she asks.

Jester puffs up her cheeks, burrowing down deeper into her chair. “Everybody in the coffee shop is rude and stupid.” she hisses between her teeth.

Caleb could have guessed. Most of Jester’s sour moods are brought on by malign social confrontations, or at least that's what he’s gathered from few times he’s been on the receiving end of one of her rants. She doesn’t come to him often about these sort of things, Caleb suspects it's because he’s not as attentive as Beau or as good at giving advice as Fjord, nor does he ‘oo’ and ‘ahh’ in all the right places like Mollymauk does. In fact, he has a hard time keeping all the name straight, though he had made a valiant effort the first time she had come to him. He can’t really bring himself to care about all the drama around campus that Jester manages to have her fingers in.

Beau leans forward in her chair. “Aw shit what happened?” she asks. The longer Caleb has spent around this motley set of weirdos that he’s found himself saddled with, the more he’s picked up on Beauregard's appetent appetite for drama, especially drama that doesn’t involve her. Lucky her then, that Jester seems to have drama to spare.

“I got fired.” Jester spits, her tail lashing out behind her like a agitated snake. “They FIRED me Beau. Like- I don't even understand why they’d do that, unless they all got like hit on head or something, that’s how stupid it is.”

Beau fixes her with a look that reeks of disbelief. “Really? You can’t think of any reason they might wanna fire you?”

Jester throw her hands up. “NO! I’m like, basically one of their best employees basically. I make the best muffins and I’m like, super nice to everybody even though I have to work really early in the morning. I don’t know what I did wrong.” she finishes in a small voice.

“It’s probably because you stick those pamphlets for the Traveler to the undersides of the cups.” Beau says.

Jester rolls her eyes. “Well yeah, but that’s not enough to like, get me totally fired.” she says.

Beau stabs her chicken with a fork. “You blow straw wrappers at the customers.”

“That was an accident.” Jester says, flapping her hand dismissively. “I was trying to get Fjord’s attention. I just missed is all.”

“Seven times.” Beau tacks on, digging back into her salad.

“Yes, seven times but I did get him eventually.” she says. “Those other people should have just moved.”

“And didn’t you fuckin replace all the sugar with salt?” Beau says.

Jester rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little joke.” She says, tucking her arms across her chest yet again. “It doesn’t matter why, anyways. Now I don’t have a job, and how am I supposed to make money without a job.”

“Why do you need money.” Beau asks. A bit of lettuce comes flying out of her mouth, hitting the table far too close to Caleb for comfort. He reaches across the table for a napkin and wipes it away with a grimace. “I thought your mom pays for everything.”

“She does.” Jester says. Reaching into her book bag she pulls out a little bag with some rather squashed looking donuts in it. “I just nice to have a little extra spending money you know?” Jester takes out one of the doughnuts, sets it on a napkin and pushes it over towards Caleb. “You should probably eat something.” she tells him. It’s become her new thing.

Whenever she sees Caleb sitting there with no food, Jester supplies him with some of her own. It started with her just passing him her extra bag of chips and complaining loudly how she was bound to lose him in a strong wind because he’s so thin. Recently, Jester has taken to buying him things, or else, forcing upon him some of the treats she gets mailed from home. And while Caleb doesn’t mind a stale cupcake every once in a while, nor is he foolish enough to turn his nose up at food made by somebody’s mother, he doesn’t need Jester buying him lunch all the time. He’s tried very hard to remain gracious in accepting in, Jester did spend her own silver to get him a meal, but he’s not a child. He doesn’t need her to coddle him, he’s more than capable to provide for himself. He's a grown man for the gods sake he understands how to make a budget. It's just that when the rent’s all paid, and the groceries are all bought, he and Nott have very little money left between them for much else. Granted, most would say he could cut back a bit on his weekly trips to used bookstores and yardsales, and buy less expensive coffee and maybe then he’d have the money to feed himself at school. To which he would say why drop the extra coin when there is plenty of good food at home. Besides, when he’s not buying books with the coppers he can scrape together, he tries to get to the laundry mat as much as he can. It’s not often, if Jester’s constant complaining that he smells like old socks and cat pee is enough to go off of. He’s an adult, however much of a disaster at he might be, and so he doesn’t need some girl living off her mother’s bank account to patronize him with her spending, however good her intentions are. He’s not a charity case, and he wants no cheap pity.

The doughnut glares expectantly up at him from the table, all pink frosting and white sprinkles smashed flat from Jester’s big purse. Sighing, Caleb carefully folds it up in the napkin. “Danke, Jester. I will take this with me to work later, mm?” he slips it into a pocket of his coat.

“Right-” Beau wraps her knuckles on the table absently. “Fuckin forgot you did that. Where the hell do you work again?”

“I assist in the library for some coin. It’s quite- and ah- and I am able to read all the books I wish,,” he says

Beau rolls her eyes, stabbing into her salad. “Nerd.” she mutters.

“Ja, obviously.” he says, rubbing out the crease in his brow. “I am a filthy book wizard.”

“Is the library hiring, Caleb?” Jester asks him, in that soft, sweet lilt of hers. Caleb lifts his face from his hand to find her gaze locked on him intently.

He shakes his head stiffly. “Nein- I do not think that they are.” he says, firmly.

Caleb has no idea as to whether the library is still looking for new hires, but it's better to be safe than sorry and just shoot Jester down now. She is too,,, loud, and to colorful and too prone to mischief when left to her own devices. Besides, he reasons, Jester would not like working in the library anyway. It is dusty and still and the work is monotonous and solitary.

With a huff, Jester settles her cheek onto her fist. “So stupid,” She mutters. “I don’t even know where to look for another job!” she flicks a pink sprinkle with her nail, which goes sailing at Beau. Beau snatches it out of the air with a deft movement and drops it to the floor.

“Why not see if the campus clinic is looking for people? You’re like- a cleric aren't you, little bit?” Beau asks.

A heavy sigh slips past Jester’s lips. “I don’t want to work in the clinic, there are like- sick people in there! Or dumb people who got hurt doing something stupid. I don’t want to spend all my time fixing up stupid people.”

“That is a shame.” Caleb says, “You have such an incredible bedside manner.”

“I am delightful, and my presence is naturally soothing.” Jester tells him in a clipped tone. “You wouldn’t want anybody else to patch you up.”

“I will remember that next time I am bleeding out from a papercut.” he responds dully. Beau snorts, a sharp, muffled sound she tries to stifle in her fist.

“Is it sad that I could actually see that happening?” she asks him, head cocked, lips pressed into a thin line that almost looks like a smile.

“You are like- really squishy Caleb.” Jester adds. “Remember when I had to help you carry your bag because it was too heavy?”

Caleb frowns deeply at her. “Ja, of course I do.”

He knows that he’s not a strong man, or a particularly fit man in any regard. But he wouldn’t describe himself as ‘squishy’. Another new affectation to add to the ever growing list of things that Jester calls him, along with ‘stinky’ and ‘borning’..

Jester flashes him a bright smile, her little fangs poking out from under her upper lip. Then she shrugs. “I guess I can just ask Molly if he’s heard about anything. He like, know everything that happens on campus, basically. Maybe he can help me look!”

Caleb hums a sour note, pretending to listen as he slowly sinks back below the top of his text book, effectively easing his way out of the conversation. Beau and Jester’s voices drone on in the background, growing more and more faded as he keys his attention in on the words.  The situation will surely resolve itself, without needing him to meddle in it. He puts Jester’s job hunt out of his mind, not bothering to dreg it up at any point in the days that follow.

 

There’s a back room in the Whildermount Community College library. It's not like any of the reservation only study rooms that Caleb is constantly booking for students, or even the cubby like cubicles the litter the second floor of the building. Behind the front desk are doors that lead into the guts of the library. One leads in the Return Book room, the other door opens up into the back office. Little more than a storage closet turned break room by a few ambitious students who had wanted to be able to do their work in peace when things were slow. The space is no bigger than the average freshman dorm, made to feel even more cramped by all the stuff people have shoved into it over the years. rickety racks stuffed with books so damaged or out of date that there’s no longer point in putting them back on shelves, covered in a thick layer of dust, line the walls. There’s a little work table shoved between two them, three spindle legged chairs crowded around it where the other employees like to do their work. There’s even a faded old couch in there, haphazardly shoved in amongst the clutter. Caleb has seen people taking naps on the lumpy thing from time to time.

Currently, the shabby wizard is laid out on it, his back against the armrest, legs tucked up so that he can prop his Transmutation textbook up on his knees. The room is very quiet, so completely separate from the rest of the library that Caleb feels almost as if it exists on an entirely different plane all together. All he can hear is the rasp of his calloused fingers across the book’s rough pages and the skittering of Nott’s feet as she pokes around the room, both of which he finds rather soothing.

This is not the first time Nott has come to visit him at work. She’s taken to dropping by when she’s in the neighborhood, asking him over his Stone if he’s busy (he’s never too busy for her) and loitering in the back office with him when the stream of students heading in and out of the library falls into a lull. Sometimes she brings him food, usually it's whatever jerky still left from what she crammed in her pockets earlier that morning. Other times she brings him random odds and ends that she's found or ‘collected’ like a curious bird, eager for him to identify them, see if they’re magic, see if they're worth trying to sell in the shop. He’s always happy to do it for her of course.

They’re comfortable afternoons, the ones he spends like this. With a book in his lap and Frumpkin nestled in against his neck and the familiar sound of Nott's small feet against the carpet. Caleb almost dares to say he’s beginning to feel as comfortable here as he does in their home. When there’s rain against the windows and the bowls from dinner are laid out and abandoned on the coffee table and he can feel Nott’s breath whistle through her mangled teeth against his chest. Though this a communal space for all the library employees, they’ve managed to lay claim to it in small ways, carved out for themselves a little sanctuary on campus. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. He’s grateful for Nott's presence in this place.

 

Curled up on the lumpy old loveseat with his cardigan rolled up and shoved behind his back as a makeshift pillow, book in his lap, Caleb listens too Nott as she roots around through the racks for something interesting. Like marbles or bottle caps, she’s been especially fixated on bottle caps recently. He listens to the pattering of her feet across the floor grow closer, then stop. Caleb turns his attention on her.

Nott hovers at his elbow, watching him with her larger gold eyes gleaming under her dirty green bangs.

“Are you bored?” Caleb asks her. “Do not feel like you have to stay here on my account if you would rather go home, Liebling.”

“No!” Nott peeps, shaking her head so that her big, bat like ears flop from side to side. “I- I like spending time with you Caleb! And the apartment is so- so big! And empty when I’m there all by myself,,,, What are you reading?” She then asks, tugging at the corner of his book.

 A ghost of a smile plays over Caleb’s lips as he lifts the book out of his lap a bit. “Come, come see.” So Nott scrabbles up so she can see the book to, a slight weight on his stomach. “These here are new cantrips I am trying to learn, you know what those are, ja?”

Nott nods. “They’re  aah- they’re the spells that you can use whenever, yeah, like ummm- like your fairy lights, or whatever?”

“Those are the ones.” He tells her, face all scrunched up with pride that she can’t see. He prods her gently in the side of the head with a finger. “You remember our lesson.”

Nott nods again, more earnestly this time. “Oh yes- I, I remembered Caleb. You were telling me about- about how your spells work and your uhhmm- ma-material components!” she says.

“That is wonderful Nott.” he tells her, fondly.

“So what is this spell that you’re learning suppose to do?” she asks him, shuffling in his lap so she can press her nose right into the centerfold of the book. A broken wheeze of laughter is presses out of his lungs as Caleb guilds her to lean back with a hand on her shoulder.

“There are a great number of spells on that page. Would you like to see the one I learned just the other day?” he asks.

His little companion’s ears perk up immediately. “Oh yes, oh yes Caleb! I would love to see you do magic, you know that I-I -I- I love when you do magic tricks!” she says, voice shrill with excitement.

Caleb shuffles up against the arm of the couch so that he’s sitting instead. “Alright- I will show you this new spell that I have learn, hm?”

Picking on of the old books on the rack at random, Caleb flicks his wrist and snaps his fingers and as he does this a spectral blue hand bursts forward from his finger. It darts across the room, seizes the old novel, then comes racing back to him, like an excitable mutt with a ball in its mouth, dropping the book into his lap before fading out of existence. He checks the cover. It’s book of old fairy tales.

“What was that!!” Not screeches, little claws digging into Caleb’s forearms. “What was that!? That- weird hand?!”

Caleb can’t help the chuckle that escape him.  “It’s a Mage Hand, see? You can command to work independently from oneself.”

Nott is staring up at him with wide, wonderfilled that make him equal parts proud and uncomfortable. Mage Hand is nothing impressive, nothing like the things he used to be able to do, and yet Nott is looking at him as if he could hang the moon and stars and as flattering as it is, it also makes him crawl back in his skin.

“That’s amazing Caleb!” Nott hollers. “You- you’re so talented.” she adds, softer.

Caleb scratches at the side of his face, gaze falling past her to the far wall. “It is a useful spell, most wizards learn it when they are young. It is nothing special.”

“Well, I think it’s very impressive.” Nott tells him matter-of-factly. “You made a magic hand that can bring you books from across the room, it- its very -cool.”

Caleb’s insides squirm under the unwarranted praise. It is a spell magically inclined children learn in their first lessons. It's one of the first spells he taught himself all those years ago, up in the attic of his parents’ little farm house with a candle and a fourth hand spell book he begged off a traveling merchant. The fact that he, a thirty-three year old man, has had to relearn such a simple spell show how far back these unkind years have put him, dampening any thrill of pride he might of had.

“It is not a hard spell.” he says again, low and quite like. “I could teach it to you.”

Nott seems stunned, then she shrinks back, shaking her head and tugging at the strings of her hoodie. “Oh no- I couldn’t, I’m not- not - talented like you are Caleb I- I wouldn’t be any good at magic.”

A deep furrow presses down on Caleb’s brow, all thoughts of his own inadequacy shoved back into the dusty box in the back of his head at the notion that Nott thinks she is not talented. She is plenty talented, and he intends to prove it so. How baffling that Nott, kind hearted Nott, could ever believe that about herself.

“Anyone can learn magic.” he tells her firmly. “It has nothing to do with talent.”

“But, Caleb, you’re so smart and I-” she beings

“Nein-” Caleb cuts in before she can start to ramble. “I am a poor soldier's son. There is nothing special about me except that I can read a bit faster than most. Anyone can learn magic if they are willing to work for it. I have no doubt that you can learn as well.”

“You really think so?” Nott asks, fingers knotted in her lap.

Caleb eyes soften into something more genuine. “Of course I think so. I would be happy to teach you some, if it is something you are interested in.”

Nott nods, ears flapping about wildly. “Yes! Yes! Teach me uuuu- can you teach me how to do that- that ‘magic hand’ too!” she says.

Caleb ruffles her hair gently. “Ja, come here now, right here, that’s perfect.” Nott scrabbles so that she’s perched on his knee. “Good ja, good. Okay so, ah-” he flatters

How to explain this, something that he has just known how to do since he was a boy. Caleb is no good with words, can hardly string together enough of them to get through a conversation. How could he possibly have enough to explain how magic works. He’s brilliant, but he’s no professor. And yet he told Nott he could teach her and if he backs out now that he’s already made that promise he fears she might think that it's her fault and Caleb refuses to allow her to feel like she might be inadequate in any way. So he trolls through his memories for those days in a cramped, cubby like attic space above the kitchen in his childhood home. Thinks back the suffocating heat of it in the summer and the terrible draft that would blow through in the winter and how he would sit up there and trace ruins with numb fingers by candlelight. He remembers how the smoke would sting in his eyes and wax burn his skin and so he taught himself to make lights out of nothing. He thinks back on the motions and the hum of the arcane words on his lips and the pinprick of warmth in his gut when he finally, finally manages to get the magic to come out. He wets his lips.

“Right- here, watch me now because this one has gestures, I will show you and then you try, ja?” Caleb says. He awkwardly talks Nott through the motions and mumbles out the words, picking up a stray fountain pen off the floor to demonstrate. “Do you eh- do you think you can do that?” he asks, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. She nods, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “You should ah,you should feel something, you know-”  he rests two fingers to the open space below his ribs. “Right here”

“Okay okay” Nott continues to nod. “What uuh- what should I try to move first?”

Caleb sweeps his eyes around the room, spies an abandoned mug on the table. “There-” he nods over to it. “You think you could try to move it?”

“I’ll,,, try,,,” Nott mutters, fixing her gaze on it too.

She fumbles her way through the motions with an unpracticed hand, fingers shaking, voice halting as she tries to fit her tongue around the unfamiliar incantation. The mug doesn't move, but Nott jumps with a startled peep.

“Oh-! I felt it! Or at least I think felt it?” she chatters. She presses a hand to her stomach. “My-my inside bits got all warm and tingly”

Caleb pats her shoulder. “Ja, that is, that’s very good Nott. Do you want to try it again?” he asks. Nott nods again, stretching out her fingers to start the spell again. Caleb feels a shudder in the air, energy rippling from Nott’s palm and he nods her on encouragingly. It shoots a little thrill down his spine. He bites down on his lip to keep a wide, nervous grin from cracking across his face “Good good, again, really focus on what you want it to do, ja? And -here” he reaches over and pulls her shoulder back a bit so she’s sitting up straighter, a position he found helped him a great deal when he’s practicing a new spell. “Okay- once more I think.” he says, breath high and anxious in his chest.

“Right right.” Nott mutters, absently, already twisting her hand around the motions.

This time, a bolt of electric blue goes shooting out the end out her fingers, arching across the room and striking the mug. It goes spinning, spinning off the table and hits the floor with a dull thud. Nott leaps nearly a foot in the air, which is just fine because Caleb is there to catch her, pulling her to his chest but the bony shoulders.

“Oh-!” she squeals but the sound is quickly muffled in Caleb’s shoulder.

“Look at you!” Caleb exclaims, ruffling fingers through her hair. “Look at you!”

“But-! But- But I didn’t do anything!?” she says, shrilly. “All I did was knock the fucking thing over!”

Caleb can’t help it, he’s beaming. He knew Nott would be a natural, she is so smart, so smart. Much smarter than him, of course she could do it, of course. “What are you talking about? You knocked it over. You knocked it over with magic. I am so proud!” he says. Caleb gives her shoulder another tight squeeze. “I am so proud of you”

 She shuffles in his lap, shoulder shrugging. “Well,,,, I have a very good teacher,,,” she mumbles into the neck of her sweater.

He almost laughs, it comes out more like a choked breath. “All I did was teach you some words, that-” He points to the mug on the floor. “- you did that all yourself, I did not help, that was you Liebling.”

Nott opens her mouth like she’s going to protest, but shuts it again with a sigh. “Well- thank you anyway, Caleb.”

With his own mage hand, Caleb grabs the mug and sets it up on the table again. He gives Nott's shoulder another quick squeeze before he lets her go. “We will try it again, ja? Magic, it is all repetition of the motions and the words.” he says, reaching over to sit her up straight again.

Nott lifts her hand to start the incantation again when the door is pushed open and Bryce pokes their head in.

“Caleb, can I borrow you a moment?” they ask. They spot Not tucked in against Caleb side and tip their head in greeting. “Wonderful to see you again Miss Nott. Caleb?”

“Ja, of course.” with a groaning in his joints, Caleb pushes himself to stand. “I will be right there.” Bryce nods, pull the the door shut as they step back out of the room. Caleb pats Nott of the top of her greasy head and smile meekly at her. “You keep practice, I will not be long I don’t think.”

“Of course Caleb!” she chirps back. “I- I’ll be right here, yo- you know, practicing my- my magics,,,”

Caleb pushes the hair back out of her face, then turns to follow Bryce. He’s barely got the door open when he’s nearly blasted back by a wave of sound that shatters the carefully kept still of the library.

“Caleb! Caleb! Oh Caleb hello!!” Jester shouts, waving frantically at him as she bounces on the balls of her feet.

“Scheisse” Caleb hisses to himself, quickly making his way over to where Jester is causing a scene in bubblegum pink overalls. He grabs hold of her arm and squeezes her wrist. “Will you be quiet, please, this is a library for god's sake.” he whisper-scolds her. Jester just giggles, twisting her arm out of his weak grip.

“I know I know, I just didn't realize you would be here today! What a coincidence!” she babbles, gripping his hands in a surprisingly firm hold.

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I work here Jester, I have reason to be here. I am curious as to what you are doing here, disturbing the other students.” he mutters monotone.  He knows that Jester has just as much right to be here as anyone else and so he can't be annoyed at her for that. That will, however, not stop him from feeling so.

Jester perks up. “Oh-! Well I was hanging out with Molly the other day, you know because he and I stayed late after class so we could finish up these really pretty ink paintings for our studio art class. But anyway, we were hanging out and I asked him,  you know, because I’ve still been looking for a new job after the rude coffee people fired me, and so I asked him, I said ‘Molly, I really need a new job, do you know if there is anywhere on campus I could work?’ and Molly said. ‘Well Jester you are one of my best friend so of course I will help you find a new job.’ and so he looked into it and basically checked all over the place for me because we are the best of friends and-”

At this point Bryce emerges from the Return Books room holding a few papers, effectively saving Caleb from the rest of Jester’s tirade. “Ah- I see you’ve met our newest hire.” they say with a nod.

Caleb’s stomach springboards down to his toes. His jaw works soundlessly, trying to catch the words escaping his gaping mouth in a breathy stream of air. In his stunned silence, Jester wraps herself around his arm, leaning a stubby horn into his shoulder.

“Oh yes- Caleb and I are very good friends actually. Isn’t that right Caleb?” she says sweetly.

“J-ja-” Caleb grits out against the tightness in his jaw. “We- ah- we are acquainted,,,”

Jester gasps out in fake offence, but Bryce just smiles, albeit a bit awkwardly, at the pair of them. “How very convenient. If that’s the case, Caleb, would you mind overseeing Jester’s training? It might be fun since you already know one another.” they say.

Jester’s grip tightens around his forearm as she tugs slightly on him. “Oh that does sound fun, Caleb you should totally show me around your super cool library Caleb.”

“It is not my library.” Caleb sighs, clearly, he is outnumbered here. “But I can do that- ja, that’s fine.” he says, a bit of bitterness on his tongue as he says ‘fine’..

“Then I can rest easy knowing Jester here is in good hands.” Bryce says, smiling a bit brighter now. He turns to Jester with a nod. “I’m sure you’re going to to fit in nicely here, and if you’re half the hard worker Caleb is, you catch on in no time. Now I have to see someone about a new shipment of books. I trust you have everything here handled between the both of you. Have a nice day.”

Caleb inclines his head in farewell. Jester waves them off violently, shaking Caleb as she does. “Bye Bryce! See you later.”

Caleb uses the distraction to tug himself free of Jester’s vice like grip.

He fixes her with a look. “What are you doing here Jester?” he asks her firmly.

Jester pauses, turning to face him, the bright smile on her face falling into a look of confusion “I’m here to work. Are- you not happy to see me Caleb?” she asks, her voice growing small and anxious. Caleb scrubs a hand across his face.

“N- nein, Jester I am-” he sighs. “It is always good to see you, it's just that I was not expecting to see you right here, right now, that is all.” He doesn’t have the heart to snap at her. She's really hasn’t done anything wrong, aside from causing him a bit unnecessary stress.

The smile returns to Jester’s face at full force. “Oh good! I am always happy to see you too Caleb.” she says. “Soooooo, are you going to teach me about all the cool, mysterious things librarians do?”

Caleb gives her one stiff nod. “I will do this, ja, but you have to promise me you will stop speaking so loudly Jester, there are people in here trying to study, you have to use your- ah- inside voice? Ja?”

“Okay okay.” Jester nods. The little blue tiefling mimes zipping her lips shut, tossing the imaginary key over her shoulder and grinning at him.

“That will work” Caleb sighs, scratching at the scruff on his jaw.

“Caleb?” Nott rasping voice interrupts their absurd conversation. Caleb glances over his shoulder to see her peeking out from behind the breakroom door. When she sees Jester, her big gold eyes go as wide as saucers. Oh! I- I thought I heard Jester’s voice but I-I thought that I may have imagined it so I wanted to check.”

“Nott!” Jester squeaks. It was nice while it lasted, Caleb thinks dryly as he watches Jester skip over to Nott and drop to her knees so she can wrap the little goblin up in her arms.

“So much hugging today,,,” Nott comments absently, carefully wrapping her arms around Jester’s shoulders to return the gesture.

“It’s so good to see you Nott!” Jester says, loudly still. “Do you work here too?”

Nott shakes her head fervently ‘no’. “No no- I just- I just come here sometimes to visit Caleb.” she says. Jester coos

“That's so sweet of you Nott!” Jester says. “You keep Caleb company while he’s at work, that’s just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“And speaking of work-” Caleb says. Setting cautious hands on Jesters, he starts to herd her in the direction of the Return Book room and away from the glares of studious students. “-we should be getting back to it, this way please.”

Nott hovers at their heels as Caleb pulls open the only other door behind the front counter and ushers them all inside.

 The Return Books room is where books that have been haphazardly abandoned on desks or tossed carelessly down the return chute are sorted, cataloged and then piled  up on trolley so they can be wheeled back to their proper shelves. Ledgers are stacked up on the desk where Caleb keeps note of the statues of each book the library owns. Checked out, checked in, overdue- always overdue, or missing or damaged, Caleb keeps diligent records of where all the books are at all times and sees that their location is marked up in the ledgers. He explains all of this to Jester, pulling down this week’s ledger to show her how the records are kept.  
“Books that have been checked out on this day are written here.” he says, running his finger over the one column where the titles have been scratched down. “And- eh, I check them against the books that I have over there to see what has been returned and what is late. Then I will move them over to that cart over there so that, you know eh, so that they can be put back on the shelfs, and I check that off here. So- all of the ah- books, on this page should be ready to be returned, ja?”

Nott peeks over Jester’s shoulder while he talks, both of them watching him with scrunched up brows. “I think I get it,,,” Jester mutters. She’s gnawing on her lower lip like someone giving off the distinct impression that they are actually quite lost. “So all we have to do is make sure the books that we have match the books on this list?”

“Well that doesn’t sound so hard.” Nott adds.

“Ja, well-” Caleb passes the ledger over to Jester, who takes it clumsily, and dusts off his anxious hands on his jeans. He gestured to the book cart with a jerk of his arm. “You will help me check that these books are ready to be put back, mm?”

So Caleb reads off the titles of the books on his cart and Jester checks them against the books in the ledger while Nott sits up on the desk and watches them work. It takes a half hour for Caleb to get through the stack on the rack and when he’s done Nott is half snoozing, face squished up against Jester’s arm as the little blue tiefling leans back against the counter. He wipes his hand off on his jeans and pulls the tangled mess of his bangs out of his eyes with stiff fingers.

“That is all of them.” he tells Jester. “Are- is there anything that we are missing?”

Jester nibbles at her thumbnail, brow pinched tight. “I think we’re missing one.” she says slowly, nudging Nott into alertness as she does. The little goblin jumps. “See right here-” Jester continues. Nott peers over her shoulder at the ledger.

Caleb draws a hand down over his face. “You can go ahead and just mark it as overdue.” he tells her. “I will make sure the person who has it is contacted.”

“But I don’t think that it’s late either see-” Jester holds out the ledger for him to see. “See? It says it was already turned in, but then you don't have it on your stack Caleb! How mysterious~”

“It has probably just been-” he starts, but Nott jumps in before he can finish.   
“I bet-!” she says. “I-I bet someone took it!” she shrieks.

Caleb signs “Nien, Nott, no-” but it’s too late because now Jester is nodding emphatically along with Nott’s proposition.

“Oooooooh yes! I bet someone took it and hide it because it had lots of secrets in it.” she says. “I bet that person was planning to steal it for a really really long time.”

“A heist!” Nott adds shrilly. Jester nods, bouncing on the balls over her feet.

 “Like when master criminals steal, like, really expensive jewelry, and then the detectives have to follow a bunch of clues to find where they hid it.” She takes hold of Nott’s hands with both of hers. “We should go look for it Nott.”

“Nein-” Caleb pipes. “No- we will not do this.” but neither of the girls are listening to him anymore.

Nott hops to her feet. “A case!”

“A case!” Jester echoes. “The case of the mysterious disappearing library boooooook.”

“Our first clue,,,” Nott says. She takes the ledger from Jester and starts thumbing through it.

“Nott, do not encourage her.” Caleb mutters, fruitlessly, through his teeth. Nott either can’t hear him or she’s just ignoring him because she props the book open on her knee and points to the page she and Jester had been looking at before.

“The book was supposedly returned yesterday, but upon closer inspection, the book is nowhere to be seen.” she says.

Exhausted, Caleb slouches back against a nearby cabinet, face in his hand. “It was probably returned yesterday and someone forgot to mark it.” he tells them.

“And who was working yesterday?” Not asks him.

“Iva.” Caleb answers solemnly.

Jester squeals. “Our first lead!” she cheers. “We are going to need to track down this “Iva” person and ask her some questions.” She says, making her voice deep and wobbly. “Come alone Miss Nott.”

“After you Miss Jester.” Nott says, hopping down off the counter.  
“Please do not do this,,,” Caleb tries, but he knows, outside of physically barring them from leaving, there is no way he for him to stop Jester and his best friend from pursuing their ill-intentioned crusade.

“We’ll be back really soon, okay Caleb?” Jester hollers over her shoulder. The door slams shut behind her and Nott before Caleb can being to formulate a reply.

They don't return until twenty minutes before the end of Caleb’s shift, empty handed but looking very pleased with themselves. Caleb finds the book the next day, buried under a pile of poorly sorted encyclopedias. He’s sure to return it to its proper shelf.

  


It doesn’t happen often, but the vain in Caleb’s temple is pulsing, a dull thud of annoyance against the side of his skull. He takes a deep breath through his nose, teeth grinding together as he tries to work his jaw loose. “Jester, please, this is important.” he says. It comes out as more of a hiss then he intended but it has the desired effect. Jester lifts her head up from her arm, where she's been doodling shapes against her skin in dark ink, and blinks up at him, unamused.

“But it’ so boooooring.” she sighs, the sound scraping against the back of her throat.

Caleb huffs. “Ja- well,,,” No one said working in the library was a particularly glamorous job, and it’s not like Caleb himself is wild about the Dewey Decimal system, but it unfortunately comes with the occupation.  He’s been lecturing Jester on it for so long now that his throat is dry and raw and his head is pounding but he’s afraid she hasn’t absorbed anything he’s been says. Note cards and spreadsheets are spread out over the table, untouched, while the legs of Jester’s pants are covered in scribbling doodles from hip to kneecap. Caleb sighs again, scrubbing the heel of his hand into the deep creases in his forehead.

“I don’t get why they don't just sort everything alphabetically!” Jester says, fist digging into her cheek. “That would a lot easier, I think.”

“They are sorted alphabetically, by author last name, after they are sorted by what information they hold.” Caleb tells her dully. “Have you been listening to anything I have been saying Jester?”

Jester twists the rings on her fingers anxiously. “I mean I was definitely, mostly listening like, at the beginning, basically yes.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting nothing,,,” Fjord steps up to the counter as sheepishly as a half orc with a texan accent can, very much interpreting Caleb.  He snaps his jaw shut.

“Oh Fjord!” Jester says. She pops up, sitting straighter in her chair so she can better bat her eyes at Fjord. “Did you come all the way here to see me?”

Fjord just chuckles, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “It’s always damn fine to see you Jester.” he says and Jester giggles.

She poofs up her hair and flashes him a sharp smile. “I know, I’m pretty great.”

He nods. “Right, right, course, but ah- I actually came here to ask Caleb somethin’’ he says.

“Oh.” Jester slouches back down into her seat with her arms folded high and tight across her chest. Her lower puffed out in a pout, brows drawn down bitterly. “Caleb, Fjord wants to talk to you, or whatever.”

“Ja I ah- I heard him.” Caleb says, before turning to address their half orc friend. “Is there uh- something I can help you with?”

“I’m hopin’ it’s something you can help me with, yeah.” Fjord stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jean.

Caleb sits up in his chair. “Is this an academic question that you have or-? I am sorry but I do not think I could be much help outside of, uh- of recommending you a good book.” Nor does Caleb have much of a desire to help Fjord with a personal issue. They’ve only spoken a handful of times since the night of Mollymauk and Yasha’s play. The man seems nice enough, level headed and collected which Caleb can respect, and he’s not nearly as loud as the rest of the weirdos Caleb has found himself unwittingly acquainted with. He appreciates Fjord relative normalness in comparison to his other- his fellow students that he finds himself spending much of his time with now a days, but Caleb doesn't possess a skill set that would make him a prime candidate to ask a favor from.

Fjord doesn’t seem put off by his stiff, more than a little hesitant tone however because he nods. “A book recommendation is actually exactly what I was looking for.”

Beside him, Jester lets out a long, annoying sigh. “Why don’t you guys just get _married_ already.” she huffs. Fjord chocks on what could be a startled laugh.

“Hush.” Caleb says, absently batting his hand at her. Jester huffs again, louder and with more force. He snaps his fingers and summons up Frumpkin in a puff of pink smoke, who Jester descends on with a happy squeal. Frumpkin fixes him with a withering look, unamused that he is being used as an object to placate the little blue tiefling. Caleb ignores him.

“What erh- what sort of book are you ah- looking for?” He instead asks Fjord. “Something specific or, you know, the library has a large selection of fables if you are looking for some, um,,  light reading.”

“I was actually hoping for something more along the lines of the- arcane.” Fjord says slowly.  “Ya know, because I’ve been looking into picking up that arcade minor for the extra credit hours.”

Caleb nods, reaching over for the big leather bound book he had been trying to prod Jester into studying. He starts thumbing though it to the section where historical magic and spell books are listed. “The library has quite a few basic dictionaries on the different schools of magic. You are looking to eh- familiarize yourself with the different areas of study, hmm?”

“Seems like as good a place as any to start.” Fjord says, and Caleb nods stiffly.

He runs his finger down the list of titles, picking out a few that might help give a novice some rudimentary understanding of the different types of arcane focus. He jots them down on a scrap of paper, along with their section number, and hands it to Fjord with a curt nod.

“Those ones there would be good to start with, I think. And you know, you can extend your search from there, if you see something that you take a liking too.” he tells Fjord.

“Right” Fjord inclines his he towards him. “Thank you kindly Caleb, I appreciate the help.” the half orc says.

Caleb digs the heel of his palm into the scruff along his jaw. “Ja, well I would not be much used to the library if I could not help you with this request, mh?”

Fjord chuckles low under his breath. “No, suppose not.”

“Do need help finding those books, Fjord?” Jester suddenly pipes in. she blinks sweetly up at him, one arm tucked possessively around Frumpkin. “Caleb has been teaching me all about the library so I’m like basically an expert now.” she says with a grin.

Caleb again rolls his eyes. “Are you sure that you will be able to find them on your own? This building, it is very big.” he says.

“I’ll be fiiiine” Jester tells him. “I’m really good at remembering things and finding things and we’ve been studying the Dewy whatever system for like four hours basically.”

“It’s only been about twenty two minutes actually.” Caleb informs her. She flaps her hand at him dismissively.

“Same thing.” she says before turning back to Fjord with syrup sweet smile. “I could totally help you find your magic books Fjord!”

Fjord smiles politely back. “That’s really kind you Jester.” he says, thickly. Actually now that he's’ noticed it, Caleb can see that Fjord’s eyes are watering as well. Jester’s offer was nice enough, but surely not something to get so emotional over, right?

Jester seems to notice it two because a little crease forms between her delicate brows. “Oh Fjord, are you feeling okay? Your eyes are all red and puff.”

“Yeah-” Fjord mutters, blinking rapidly. “I’m alright, it's just, cat-” he manages to get out, dabbing at his watering eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “M allergic”

“Oh!” Jester released Frumpkin, who puffs himself up big and slinks over to settle against Caleb’s elbow. “Oh! Well then I will just leave Frumpy here, and you and I can go and look for your books then?” she asks.

Fjord nods frantically. “Yeah, that sounding great actually. Apologize Caleb.” he says, as Jester hurries out from beside the desk to stand beside him. “I’m real damn allergic.”

Caleb hums in way of response. After all, it’s not necessarily Fjord’s fault that he’s allergic.

Jester reaches around Fjord and snatches the scrap of paper with the book list on it from his hand. She holds it up to the light to inspect it with curious magenta eyes. Then she wedges an arm between Fjord’s and tucks herself against his side.

“Okay- I totally have an idea of where we need to go.” she says brightly. “Let’s go!”

“Jester-” Caleb beings, then stops himself. Some encouraging words are do here, at least he thinks. Feels like this is one of those times that, if it were him, Nott would have a kind word for him.  So Caleb pulls at his beard absentmindedly, giving the little blue tiefling a stiff nod, even though he can't quite muster up a smile to go with. He hopes he looks encouraging nonetheless, mouth fixed up in tight, neutral line. “I’m sure you will manage, ah- good.” he tells.

She beams “Thank you Caleb!” she tugs on Fjord’s arm, tugging him in the direction of the rows upon rows of books. “Bye Caleb!” she waved enthusiastically as they trot off, Fjord offering him a helpless, departing nod. Caleb waves back mechanically until they disappear down the nearest row. He lets his hand fall awkwardly back to the table.

“You know, they are probably both going to die.” he tells his cat. Frumpkin mews back solemnly, fixing Caleb with his discerning blue gaze. Caleb nods. “You’re right. We should ah- give Jester a chance, you know.  Five- ten minutes surely, ja that should be enough time.” Frumpkin mews gently and so Caleb smiles, scratching the fey cat between the ears. “You are a smart cat, mm?”

Satisfied for the moment, Caleb relegates concerns over Jester to a gentle ticking timer in the back his mind. He reaches into his bag and pulls out the battered old book of nursery rhymes he’d procured the other day and cracks it open, nestled back in his seat with his coat drawn up around his throat. Minutes trickle by, Caleb checks out a handful of reference books for a redhead halfling women but nothing exceptionally noteworthy happened except for the noticeable lack of Jester bounding down the aisles.

He sets his book to the side, stretching up and bowing his back out so that his shoulders click together and his spine creaks. The puff of air the motion forces from his chest causes Frumpkin, who was snoozing at the far end of the desk, to crack open a curious eye. Signing, Caleb leans over to scratch blunt nails across the cats back. “Time to check in on them” he tells his cat. “Go and find Jester now.”

With much blustering and ruffling of his fur Frumpkin does lumber to his feet, stretching out languidly before hopping off the counter. He trots off down the aisles, following the path Jester and Fjord took. As he disappears around the corner Caleb, sinking low in his seat, draws his book up to cover his face and slips into Frumpkin’s scenes, going blind and deaf to his own surroundings. Frumpkin zips gracefully through the silent aisles, dodging around the few meandering students there browsing. It takes some doing, the library a maze like archive of information, but Frumpkin does eventually manage to sniff out the familiar little blue tiefling, at good dozen rows from where she should be with Fjord hovering at her side. Quite honestly, Caleb is surprised that they pair of them hadn’t accidently stumbled upon the section they’re looking for simply do to the sheer amount of time they’ve been looking.

Regardless, Jester is shifting from foot to foot in the middle of hall. She glances down at the scrap of paper, now rung out and wrinkled in her hands, looks up at the number plaques on the towering shelves anxiously, then shift her gaze back down, gnawing on her lower lip. With a thought from Caleb, Frumpkin presses himself between a rather dry looking anthology of northwestern grain foods and pamphlet on hoeing techniques, watching the pair from between the books.

Spinning slowly in place, Jester lets out a little huff that ruffles her bangs. “Okay, I really thought we were going to find it this time.” She says.

“Ya know, Jester-” Fjord begins, stepping up to her cautiously. “There ain’t no shame in going back and seeing if Caleb can give us a hand, m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I can find it just fine on my own.” Jester insists. “I just got a little confused because the numbers on this side-” she points to her right. “Go down. And the numbers on this side-” she points to her left. “Go up.” she worriers her thumb nail between her rounded fangs. “Maybe this way,,,,?”

Though deaf to his own ears, Caleb lets out a sigh. Under his direction, Frumpkin lets out a little mew, causing Jester to peep up. Quickly the little tiefling drops to hands and knees, peeking under the shelves in earnest. “Oh Frumpy? Is that you? Here kitty kitty, come here pretty kitty!”

With another soft meow, Frumpkin slips out of his hiding spot to appraise Jester. She squeals with delight, reaching over to scratch enthusiastically between his ears.

“Frumpkins did you come all the way out here to check on me?” she coos. Caleb swallows down a smile, having Frumpkin butt his head against her open palm as a sort of confirmation. “I thought so.” Jester responds. “Frumpy do you know where these books are?”

Immediately Frumpkin turns on his heel, tail bobbing behind him as he takes off down the aisles.

“Is that a yes?!” Jester calls after the cat. Frumpkin slows to a stop, glancing back to watch Jester scramble to her feet. She takes hold of Fjord by the wrist and starts pulling him instantly after the cat. “Come on Fjord, or we’re going to get left behind!”

Fjord stumbles behind her. “Jester, I don’t think- Frumpkin is going to have a better time finding these books then us, he’s just a cat.”

“No, he’s a magic cat!” Jester tells him with a firm nod. “And he’s a very smart cat too, come on.”

Frumpkin, under Caleb’s direction, leads the charge through the rows upon rows of towering shelves, pausing occasionally to check the number plaques, before taking off down another aisle. Jester and Fjord keep pace behind him, Jester with a gleeful skip, Fjord less enthusiastically so, but he he does follow, dragging his feet the whole way. It takes all of two minutes for the fey cat to navigate them to the other side of the library, where the books are older and hum faintly with the weight of arcane knowledge that they hold. Frumpkin stops in front of the section Caleb had recommended, peering up expectantly at Jester and Fjord. The little blue tiefling swoops down and gathers him up in her arms, cradling him like a baby. Fjord moves past them, pulling a tome at random off the shelf.

“Well I’ll be damned.” he murmurs absently, flicking through the pages. “Little bastard lead us right to it.”

“I knew you knew where to go Frumpy!” Jester coos, nose pressed into his fur. “You are such a good good kitty!”

“MMmmwwww” Frumpkin mews.

Fjord chuckles. “Hell of a cat Caleb’s got there. You said he was magic?”

Jester nods. “Yeah, he’s like a fairy cat or something. Caleb can make him poof!” she snaps her fingers “Just like that. It’s super cool.”

“Hu?” the half orc considers Frumpkin a moment. And then he lets out a terrible sneeze. “Seem as though I’m still fantastically allergic to him.”

“Oh right!” carefully Jester lets Frumpkin down. “Thank you so much Frumpy but your making Fjord all itchy so you should like probably go back and find Caleb okay? I bet he’s looking for you.”

He’s about to have Frumpkin give answering meow, but the feeling of someone tripping down the top of his book startles Caleb back to his senses. All at once he’s greeted by crimson and lavender and blue. He jolts back in his seat, heart in the back of his throat.

“He lives!” Mollymauk says with disarmingly sharp smile, dropping back from where he’s leaned over the counter. Behind him, Yasha, his ever imposing shadow, lets out a little huff. There’s a small fond smile playing across her face.

Fine sheen of panicked sweat drying under his hairline, Caleb’s gaze darts quickly between the two to them. Yasha in her leather jacket and her ripped jeans, Mollymauk in a fantastically magenta coat with yellow fur trim. Caleb wets his lips and wills his startled heart to be still.

“I ah- sorry I was- I didn’t not hear to come over.” he says

“Well I can see that.” Mollymauk says. His sharp smile eases into somethings softer. “Y'alright?”

Caleb nods slowly. “Oh ja ja I was just you know-” he eases his white knuckle grip off his book and waves it about, not meeting Mollymauk’s gaze. “-really absorbed in the story.”

Mollymauk leans over the desk again to get a better look at the book it would seem. “Can’t say that I’ve read that one.” he says. “Is it any good? I mean I would think it must be fairly good for you to be ignoring us like that. Unless of course you just don’t like us and that was your polite way of getting us to fuck off. Which, if that’s the case, then I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”

“It is - interesting.” Caleb answers plainly, setting the book down in his lap. “Is there something I can help the both of you with?” he directs the question at Yasha, who he sees in here from time to time and seems like the more studious of the pair.

It’s Mollymauk, of course, who answers. He wraps his knuckles on the desk, lips pressed into a thin smile. “Just came by for a visit.” he says cheeky. He looks around, trying to peek behind the desk. “I was actually hoping to talk to Jester. Is she working today?”

“Ja, she is helping another student, but she should- well, nien, she’s helping Fjord find some books, so I am not sure when she will return.” he tells him. Mollymauk chuckles.

“That poor bastard,,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Well, if she’s busy I suppose we’ll just have to come back another time-” Yasha's big hand claps down on the back of Mollymauk’s neck, fixing him firmly in place and stalling his machine gun tongue.

“He’s looking for a book.” She tells Caleb calmly. “And we are going to need a study room too, I think.”

“Right,,,,and that too, I suppose.” Mollymauk says, smile high and tightly afixed to his face.

Caleb lets his gaze slip from him, to Yasha, whose brow is always set in a stoic line, then back again, slowly pulling his ledger towards him. “Right,,,, um- what book are you- are you looking for.” he asks.

“He wrote it down.” Yasha says.

“I did. I did do that.” Mollymauk adds. He produces a scrap of paper from his pocket and passes it over to Caleb. “It’s for one of my theater classes, which has turned out to be more of a literature class then I was expecting.” he explains.

“Are there any study room still available?” Yasha asks.

Caleb nods, flipping to the section on play manuscripts. “It has not been very busy today, the ones on the second floor are still open, last time I checked. He pulls off a study room key from its hook under the desk and passes it to Yasha. “Room 202, the room number is on the little tag there, please do not forget to bring it back here when you’re finished.”

She nods. “I’ll take good care of it.” she gives Mollymauk’s shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll be waiting for you in there.” she tells him.

He sighs, reaching around to pat her hand. “Course dear.”

Seemingly satisfied, Yasha releases him. “Make sure he gets the right book.” she tells Caleb. “He tends to get distracted.”

Mollymauk balks at her. “And what's wrong with that!” he calls after her retreating back, making Caleb wince. With a sigh, he turns back to Caleb, leaning his cheek onto his fist. “Sorry about this, Caleb. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon, then you can get back to your book.”

Caleb shakes his head. “Nein, it’s- it is my job, hmm? I do not mind.”

 “Fair.” Mollymauk nods. “Usually I wouldn’t even bother with the script but we’ve never put this show on, so I’m not familiar with it.”

“The theater program here?” Caleb asks absently while he scans the ledger.

Mollymauk shrugs. “That, and my family has never put it on either, not popular enough, I think.”

Caleb peers up at him, curious furrow between his brows. “Your-?”

“My family owns a theater.” he elaborates. “It’s nothing big, we do a lot of traveling performances but every once in a while we’ll do a big show there. Me and Yasha and the lot of us.”

Caleb nods slowly. “Yasha has mentioned something along those line. You are- ah -sibling then, hmm?” he asks.

“Nah, well, no, not exactly like that no. Gustav, he owns the theater, he’s sort of a- collector of people.” Mollymauk says. “It’s not as weird as I’m making it sound, I promise. He just- tries to help people down on their luck or, people who don’t have anywhere else to go. He gives them a job, and a place to stay if they need it.”

“Which one are you then?” Caleb asks. Mollymauk huffs out a chuckle.

“Honest answer will cost you a drink, friend” he teases, his waxy smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes though. So Caleb drops his gaze back to the ledger.

“Fair enough.” he mutters, flicking to the next page.

If Mollymauk doesn’t want to delve into his past than that just fine. He’s more than welcome to keep some things, the gods know Caleb does the same. And they are not that close anyway. If he thinks he’s not spent much time with Fjord, he’s probably spent even less around Molly. He doesn’t owe Caleb the backstory, tragic or not. Though it wouldn’t be entirely honest to say that he doesn’t at least wonder how the purple one fell into with a traveling theater troupe with a tendency for picking up wayward souls. It not that he doesn’t believe it, one look at Mollymauk and you can tell, he looks like someone with an unconventional upbringing to say the least. There’s a story there however, and now that it's in his head Caleb can’t help but wonder. But in the same breath, it’s not important. Curious, but not important. It’s not like anything could be worse, more imperative, then Caleb’s own past, that clings to him like a filthy second skin.

He circles his finger around the title in his ledger. “Got it.”

“Have you?” Molly leans his cheek onto his fist. “That’s wonderful.”

Caleb merely nods, quickly jot down the section number. He passes it over to Mollymauk. “The section you are looking for is right over there.” he tells the tiefling, pointing a few rows down to the left. “It should not be too difficult to find but I could eh- accompany you, if you would like,,,,”

Mollymauk flashes him a loose, easy smile. “Appreciate the offer, but I think I’ve taken up enough of your time already. I’ll be alright finding it on my own.”

“Alright.” Caleb says with a nod. “Just ah- be sure that, if you are planning to take it out of the library- you will come back up here so that I can check it out for you, ja?”

Molly flicks his fingers in little mock salute that make the corners of Caleb’s mouth twitch almost imperceptible. He tugs at his beard.

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Molly says, then turns with a flick of his pointed tail, walking the way Caleb instructed.

Maybe it's his easy gait, but the wizard feels far more confident in Mollymauk’s ability to navigate the shelfs than Jester’s. He slumps over the counter, kneading fingers into the deep wrinkles in his brow. It been a long, strange hour. He’s thankful for a moment to breath.

Things are just starting to settle back into their usual lull of activity when Jester and Fjord reappear, their entrance heralded by Frumpkin hopping up onto the desk, where he proceeds to paw at Caleb’s hand until he puts his quill down and scratches between his ears. A moment later, Jester comes skipping around the corner, Fjord in tow with small armful of arcane tomes.

“Oh Frumpy, there you are!” the little blue tiefling coos. Caleb has just enough time to snatch is work out of the way before Jester jumps up onto the counter beside his cat, scooping him up into her arms.  “Caleb, you will not believe this. But Frumpkin, he came and found Fjord and I and he helped up find Fjord’s books! Isn’t that just the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard in your whole life! He is such a smart kitty, yes you are!” she nuzzles her face into the scruff of Frumpkin’s neck.

“He is a ah- pretty magical cat, mm?” Caleb says evenly.

“He is!” Jester nods, bouncing with it.

“Jester tells me he’s a fey cat?” Fjord asks, setting his books down on the counter next to Jester’s knee.

Caleb nods, reaching over to start checking them out. “Ja, he is my familiar. I can make him-” he snaps “Poof- and give him commands, look through his eyes if I want. It is a complicated ritual spell, to summon him out of the Feywilds, but once he is bound to me, eh- you know, I can call him at will

“That’s an impressive bit of magic.” Fjord says.

He shrugs. “It took me a few tries to get it just right but,,  aah- well worth the time.” he finishes checking out the books and shoves them across the desk back towards Fjord, not meeting his probing gaze. “These are ready,,”

“Oh right.” he gathers them up. “Thank you for all your help with this Caleb. You wouldn't- you wouldn’t mind to terrible if I were to stop by sometime in the future to ask you a couple of questions would ya? Ya seem pretty knowledgeable about this stuff.”

“I ahh- I am not all that informed actually, I still have much to learn,,,” Caleb peeters off lamely, picking at his fingernails under the desk.

“I reckon ya know more than me at least.” Fjord presses. “I’m not asking for lessons or nothing like that, just- some clarification, if I need it.”

Exhausted, Caleb offers the half orc a strained smile. “If it is something I can help with,,,”

“That’s all I'm asking.” Fjord says with a thin smile of his own. “Well then, I best be getting off to my next class. I’ll see you both around.”

“Bye Fjord!” Jester says, waving facility at him. Fjord nods towards her, and makes his exit. Once he’s gone out the front door, Jester turns her attention on Caleb instead. “Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“Please get down off the counter Jester.” Caleb mutters to his hands, still folded up in his lap.

Jester swings her legs back and forth. “Anyone check out anything really embarrassing?” she asks.

“Nein.” Caleb replies.

“Did anyone ask you any weird questions?” she probs.

Caleb sighs. “Nien”

“You’re no fun” she tells him, puffing out her lower lip in a pout.

“Ja, I am aware.” Caleb mutters back.

“Did you know this library has a spectacular collection of terribly trashy romance novels?” It’s Mollymauk’s voice, far louder than it ought to be. Caleb’s head snaps up, glaring the lanky lavender tiefling down as he saunters up to the counter, two books in hand.

“Molly!” Jester cheers. She leans a freckled cheek forward expectantly, and Molly plants a chaste kiss to it. “What are you doing here?”

Mollymauk sighs, draping himself dramatically over the counter. Caleb scoots his chair back a bit as his arms flop over onto his side. “Academics, unfortunately. Yasha has taken it upon herself to make sure I actually get my coursework done.” he tells her. “But, I did find something - interesting- while I was busy getting myself fantastically lost.” And Mollymauk holds up garishly pink book for them to inspect.

The title, sprawled across the center of the novel in blooming gold cursive, reads ‘Tusk Love’. The rest of the cover is taken up by an incredibly over the top, outlandish oil paint that depicts a young, curvaceous human woman in the embrace of a muscular half orc man. They’re painted in soft gold light, splayed out in a rose garden, staring deeply and wantonly into one another eyes. Caleb’s mouth presses into a thin line. Jester, on the other hand, gasps.

“Ooo Molly, did you find a dirty book?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

Mollymauk nods, lips curled up in giddy grin. “I think I may have.” he starts thumbing through it.

“Does it look any good?” Jester asks, setting Frumpkin to the side so she can lean forward, trying to get a look over the top of the book.

Caleb watches Molly as he flips through the ‘novel’.

After a few moments, Mollymauk snaps Tusk Love shut, offering it up to Jester. “It’s not exactly my thing, but maybe you’ll get some enjoyment out of it, dear.”  
Jester take the book and sets it down in her lap. “Oooh Molly! What is it you’re looking for? Is it something kinky, or weird? You can tell me, you know. Some of my mom's clients are into like, some really crazy stuff.”

Molly giggles. “I can’t say that I have many hang ups in that area. No, I’m generally willing to give anything a go at least once. Of course, manacles are always nice, lots of things you can do with manacles.”

The legs of Caleb’s chair screech across the floor as he stands suddenly for the desk. Both the tieflings are staring at him, Jester curiously, Mollymauk, with a crooked little smile hanging off his lips. Caleb pins his gaze to far wall.

“Well I am feeling incredibly uncomfortable right now, so I am going to go pretend to do work in the back now.” he blurts out in a rush. He makes a hasty retreat into the Return Book room, followed by Jester’s cry of: “Sex isn’t something to be afraid of Caleb!”

  


There can’t possibly be anything more irritating to Caleb then irresponsible people making his life more difficult than it already is. So when in the middle of his book return rounds early on Thursday he finds that some student or students have gone a locked one of the study rooms with the key still inside, he’s not happy. Because all of a sudden it becomes his problem, and then he’s sitting there in front of the door in the dimly lit library at six thirty in the morning with a battered set of lock picks strew out around him and his Stone of Farspeech tucked up against his ear.

One hand pressing a metal bit into the lock, Caleb shakes his hair out of his face. “Ja, so I have the ah- the-”

“The wrench” Nott squeaking voice fizzles with arcane energy in his ear.

He nods. “Wrench right. So I have that in the lock now.”

“Good! Okay, so just put the - the pick in there too and jimmy it around until all the little pins click into place.” she says.

The lock picking set isn't his, not really anyway. The old things used to belong to Nott. He had since gotten her a better pair just last Yule and she had insist that he take these, though he’d told her he really doesn’t have much need to go around picking locks. Still she had insisted, and Caleb feels almost grateful for her foresight. However, just because he has them in his possession doesn’t mean he’s had much practice with them. He eyes the tools wearily.

“Which- eh- which one is the pick.” He asks.

“Whichever one fits in the hole.” she says.

Caleb frowns. “Please do not say it like that,,,” he says.

“What’s wrong with how I said it?!” Nott shrieks. “Stick your pick into the hole Caleb! Really jam it in there!”

Caleb kneads his forehead into his shoulder. “I am doing it, please stop.” he gropes for one of the long metal picks at random and tries to fit it in there. “Too big.” he grunts. He tries another. This one slides in without resistance. “Oh, that’s much better.”

“Does it- does it fit in there nice and snug?” Nott asks.

“Ja-” Caleb readjusts the Stone against his ear. “This one is not as wide.”

“Good good, so ahh- just -wiggle it around in there a bit until you finish.” she says.

“I will try.” he mutters, jimmying the pick back and forth until he feels resistance. He pushes up against the pin, too hard. His hand, use to the wide gestures that come along with magical incantations, are not as adept at this nibble task. The pick jumps out of his hand and falls out of the lock. “ Veidemmit.” he mutters harshly under his breath.

“You should probably try- twisting it a bit.” Nott adds. “Yah now, maybe try a- a- lil in-and-out, to loosen things up?”

“Alright” Caleb sighs. He sticks the pick back into the lock and starts again.

Under Nott's instruction, Caleb is able to get the door open in a reasonable amount of time. He finds the key sitting innocent and abandoned on the work table in the middle of the dim room. He tucks it into his pocket. He’ll return it to the front desk when he’s finished up he rounds.  He shuts and locks the door behind him, scoops up the lockpicks and slips them back into their leather case and returns them to the pocket of his coat.

He should brush up on Knock, so that this will not be a problem in the future, he thinks dully as he sets his hands back on his abandoned push cart ladened with books. The old wheels of the cart squeak and shudder as he pushes it through the rows of shelves. A perfect memory means he has no need to carry around a cheatsheet to tell him where each book should go. It’s a system, unchanging and repeating and once he’s seen something once, he does not so easily forget it. So when he goes to put “A Brief History of Exandria” back on the shelve with the other world history texts, and finds “The Fanciful Flight of Felicia the Flat Footed Thief” with its glossy red cover wedge in between the molding old tomes, he is both confused and annoyed. Some eager students, he's found, try to ‘help’ the librarians by picking up books and shoving them into shelves at random. He wishes they wouldn’t. Grumbling under his breath, Caleb exchanges the brightly colored book with the yellowing historical text for a zero sum of any progress made for the effort. He sets the new book down on the top of his cart and goes to grab another historical piece. Scanning author names however, he spies another flash of color, booking out from between the shades of brown. His brows pinch together as he crouched down to the bottom shelf and pries the odd book out from where it’s been crammed in between to thicker times. “Feather Leather” flashes up at him in golden lettering on a glossy blue cover.

It goes on like this down the aisle and then the next, and the one after that as well, Caleb follows the breadcrumb trail of misplaced books until his cart is stacked higher then when he’s started.  He’s - perplexed, and frustrated, and it seems like, at least for the next couple of rows he can make out in the lowlight, that the trail doesn’t end here. However, it rounding seven in the morning and Caleb suspects that the first wave of students will be making their way through any minute now, he needs to get up front. Inspection of the extent of the damage will have to wait, unfortunately. He starts wheeling the cart back towards the front desk.

The rest of his shift promises to be hell, he thinks bitterly as he deposits the cart in the Book Return room. He’s not sure how much of the library he’s been affected by this, doesn’t know how many books are out of place but surely, it's going to be enough to ensure some level of mild chaos in locating reference material. Nothing can be done about it now. Even if he did know exactly what percent of the library is in a state of disarray, to put everything back by himself would take hours. An irritated pulse shoots through his temple and Caleb digs the heel of his palm into his forehead. Of course something like this would have to happen on his shift. Nothing can ever be simple, no, he must get constantly fucked over by the universe in every small and conceivable way possible.

He sighs, long and deep, then grabs a pen and a bit of paper and scrawls out a quick note to Bryce, informing them of the situation so that they can take whatever steps necessary to fix it. This goes beyond ‘helpful’ students misplacing things, or even a staff member putting books back on the wrong shelves. There was intent to this, it's the only way such a large portion of the library would be affected like it is, which is something that’s going to need to be addressed. He sets the note atop the pile of recollected books and makes his way back out to the front desk.

It’s just as miserable a shift as Caleb had suspected it might be. For every one person he manages to point in the right direction, at least two more are back up at the counter five minutes later, with the wrong book and a complaint. There's virtually nothing he can do to help them. If he’s lucky, one of the books a student is looking for is already in his possession, in the stack on the cart form earlier or else has been previously returned by another student who found it shoved on some odd shelf. He doesn't’ mind the run around, it's much easier to handle than the alternative, when the book in question is now where to be found at all. Because when that happens Caleb has to tell stressed out college students looking for reference material for their papers that that particular book is missing, and maybe they would like to try something off his ever growing pile of orphaned books instead? Needless to say, no one is happy, not the students with their ever approaching deadlines, and certainly not Caleb, who anxious enough around a swelling crowd of strangers without the added stress of not having the answers at his fingertips. By the time things have settled into the natural lull that comes with the start of lectures, his heart is beating like a rattled bird in cage of his ribs. He all but slams his head down onto the the counter after the last annoyed student shuffles away. A few peaceful breaths is all he gets before the dull thud of shoes on carpeting draw him unwillingly from his stupor.

Jester comes skipping around the counter, the full skirt swishing around her knees as moves. She drops in the chair next to his, crosses her legs, and gives him a thorough once over.

“You look like shit, Caleb.” she tells him matter of factly.

“Danke” Caleb hisses back. He rubs a hand over his eyes. “It has been shit morning.”

Jester cocks her head to the the side. “Was it like, really really busy?” she asks.

“Ja, that is one way of putting it.” He mutters “I come in today and find all the books moved around all over the place,,,”

“Pretty great, hu?” Jester says, sly edge in her tone. Her tail flicks out behind her.

Caleb turns to start at her, slack jawed and numb to the very tips of his fingers. “Jester,,, what have you done?”

Jester presses her mouth into a tight little smile and hums. “I may have moved around like, a couple of the books while I was working the other day.” she confesses. “The Traveler thought it was really funny.”

He blinks, searching in the sheer shocking numbness for words. “You purposely misplaced the books.” he says dumbly.

She nods, turning around and reaching into her bag. When she turns back, she's got a sketchbook in hand. She thumbs through it quickly before laying the notebook out over the desk so Caleb can see. On the page is a cartoonish illustration of a little blue tiefling and a tall figure in a green robe putting books onto shelves. “A really good prank don’t you think?” 

Heat flickers to life in his chest like a spark at the end of his fingertip. A rolling boil building there, heating his face and bubbling in his ears. Its irrational, maybe, but his irritation over takes him, and before he can reel himself in the words are scorching across his tongue like wildfire.

“Oh ja, a very good prank.” he says, tone clipped. “I thought it was very funny, ja running around like a right arschloch, looking for books that are not there.” Jester freezes, turning big, confused magenta eyes up at him. She open her mouth to speak but Caleb cut her off, standing abruptly from his seat. “I am late for class.” he says, knowing he has a good hour before his class starts.

Caleb grabs his messenger bag out from under the desk, slings it over his shoulder, and starts marching in the direction of the door. He has no interests in wait for Jester to cobble together an excuse, or for her to tell him that he’s too uptight. He needs this job, it helps him and Nott pay the rent. He doesn’t have the luxury of quitting whenever he like, or because he finds the work frustrating, and she is going around purposefully making things more difficult, more stressful for him. In his bitterness, Caleb feels that he’s entitled to a bit of self righteous anger. He leaves the library in a huff.

 

Alchemy is a long, concentration intensive lecture that occupies a majority of his brain space for an hour and a half. Taking notes and measurements on the substances in his vials require his undivided attention to ensure precision.  A half ounce of tin and two ounces of quicksilver in a cup of salt water over a flame. His spat with Jester is all but removed from his mind as hes packing up to leave at the end of the lesson. Caleb makes his way to the usual lunch table absently, feet taking him along the habitual path towards his seat by the window. He doesn’t think about the fight at all until to hand slap down on the table top on either side of him so hard that the whole thing buckles under the abuse. Instantly hs heart leaps up into his throat, startled gaze finding Beauregard hovering over him. Her bright blue eyes flash like the sharp tip of a dagger through the stillness. Instinctively he curls in on himself, messenger bag garbled to his chest and shrinks back in his seat. All at once he is reminded of how physically intimidating Beauregard is.

“Listen-” she says, her voice low a weighted, like she’s trying very hard not to shout. “I don’t know what happened, but you need to fucking apologize to Jester.”

A lingering bubble of annoyance wells up in Caleb chest, still hot from his frankly heinous morning and fueled with an indignance that he hadn’t realized had formed throughout the day pushes against his stomach. He eases his white knuckle grip off his bag, letting it drop limply to his lap, and fixes Beau with a stoney look. Mind you, he’s still certain she’s going to break his arm, but adrenaline is as good as courage, at least for the moment.  So he meets her piercing glare with a wall of indifference.

“I do not see why I should.” He tells her curtly. “She has no regard for anyone but herself., or she would not seek out ways to cause others misfortune”

“Fuck you Caleb.” Beau spits back with a venom he wasn’t expecting. He watches as she takes a breath, and then another, eyes close and fingers curled up into fists. After a stiff moment she levels her gaze on him once more. “Jester’s the fucking sweetest person I know. Fine, yeah, she gets up to shit sometimes, but she doesn’t fucking mean anything by it, okay. So I don’t know what the fuck she did, your what you think she did, or whatever, but you’re being a grade a dick right now, and she’s crying in the library.”

At this, Caleb starts to deflate a bit, hot air seeping out of stony facade. He hadn’t- he didn’t mean to make her so upset. She is just a girl after all, younger than himself by a decade. And while, yes, she is prone to mischief, she’s never acted out of malicious intent. Caleb sags down lower in his chair. Beauregard is not through with, apparently, because she leans over the table more so that her shadow falls menacingly over him.   
“I don’t know what your hang ups are, and frankly dude, I don’t really give a shit. Jester’s my fuckin friend, and I don’t like to see my friends upset, yeah?”

“J-a,,,” Caleb putters out. “I- ah- I will go and talk to her.”

Beau pushes back off the table, out of his space. “Better get a fuckin stellar report, Widogast.”

 

The library is less crowded in the early afternoon because students are not permitted to bring food inside. Once he inside, Caleb unwinds Frumpkin from his around his neck and sets the cat on the floor.

“I need you to find Jester for me, my friend, I will follow behind you.” he tells his familiar.

The cat mews once to show that he understands, then he takes off down the aisles of books. Caleb follows at his heels like a shadow, matching the cat step for step as they wind their way through the rows of books. Frumpkin is not a bloodhound, but his fay origins make him good enough at tracking and it doesn’t take long before the pair of them stumble upon the little blue tiefling. Caleb hangs back at the mouth of the aisle while Frumpkin darts on ahead of him.

Jester standing in the middle of the aisle with a push cart of books next to her. Caleb pauses a moment, watching. she pulls a book from the shelve, sets it down on the cart, and then replaces it with another. All the while her shoulder tremble, her breath coming in in short hiccuping gasps. He feels himself soften a bit, something about this young girl eroding away his sharp edges, if only a little. Perhaps Beauregard was right. Regardless of his frustration, of the stress of the day, he shouldn’t have snapped at her like he did. Most likely she meant no harm by her actions, she just acted thoughtlessly. Who is he to throw stones. Frumpkin darts over and butts his head against Jester’s ankle causing her to jump.

Caleb decided now would be a fine time to get on with this. He clears his throat and takes a shy step forward, shoulder up around his ears. He is not so good at this, not so much the admitting he’s wrong, but the apology that comes after. He steps forward nonetheless as Jester’s bright eyes snap towards him.

“Umm- hallo Jester.” he tries, weakly.

Jester blinks up at him. The she slowly folds her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers into anxious knots. “I’m putting the books back.” she says, sound more timid than Caleb has ever heard her sound.  Another sharp piece of him falls away. “I don’t exactly remember all of the ones that I moved, but I told Bryce that I would fix them. I’m really sorry Caleb, I didn’t mean to make your day shitty like that.”

Caleb takes another timid step forward. “Nien, Jester, it was-” he takes breath “I should not have snapped at you like that, that was wrong of me.”

Jester sniffles. “It’s okay. I did sorta do a kind of shitty thing. I didn’t think about how hard it would make it for everyone to do their job. I just thought it would make the Traveler happy, and it did! But, it also made you really upset, and that was shitty of me.”

Caleb offers up a smile, strained smile. “I- ah- I suppose we both acted- pretty shitty.”

Jester returns he smile in kind. “Yeah,,,,”

A long, quiet moment stretches out between them, Jester twiddling her thumbs and staring at a particularly uninteresting patch of pattern on the carpeting.

“Here-” Caleb takes a few steps towards her, bolder now. “Let- uh- here let me help you with- with this,,,”

She looks up, eyes wide. “You don’t have to do that Caleb, it’s my mess.”

“It will be faster if I help.” he says to the bookshelf.  It's an evasive response and he knows it. Jester seems to have picked up on it as well.

He catches her small smile out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks Caleb.” she grabs a book off the cart and passes it to him.

Caleb nods stiffly. “Ja ja- aah but tell me, you keep mentioning the Traveler?”

Jester perks up at this, bouncing excitement overwhelming her once melancholy expression. “The Traveler is like, a super power god, and like basically my best friend ever basically.”


End file.
